#hannibal (i am having an old friend for dinner)

[hvbris]

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 . boys edition !!!

Elliot, Noah, Mulder, Caesar, Hannibal, Tom

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

30k follower celebration for Hannibal Lecter please prompt 3 “I never thought I would see you again.”

.⋆｡Won’t Let Go Again｡⋆.

Hannibal Lecter x plus size reader

implied Hannigram x plus size reader

Moving to Baltimore was supposed to be a fresh start, to escape the ghosts of your past but a budding new friendship with an FBI profiler leads you back to the man who left you behind

Warnings: european!reader, DARK, usual Hannibal warnings (implied cannibalism, kidnapping, drugging, manipulation), childhood lovers, needles

WC: 1.2k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Halloween Celebration

America confused you, everything was big and moved so quickly, you considered it a miracle that you didn’t constantly get lost. But it was such a beautiful place, especially Baltimore. The mixture of old and new architecture that lined the bay was so reminiscent of your old home but also gave you a whole new world to explore.

With a paper map in your hands, you wandered down a mostly empty street, your small heels clacking softly against the pavement. You were determined in your search for a new coffee shop to try out on your day off but so far, you have been unsuccessful. Head down and concentrated, you didn’t notice an equally distracted man walking straight in your direction.

You bowled into each other and you both fell down. You winced and the man yelped as you crashed onto the cold sidewalk. “Oh god! I am so sorry, I should’ve seen where I was going.” You apologised quickly, ignoring the way the skin of your knees burned with pain.

The man shook his head at you, causing his brown curls to tumble over his forehead. “No it’s my fault, sometimes I just wander and forget my surroundings.” He pulled himself to his feet and offered you a hand, although he would not meet your eyes.

“I suppose we are both at fault then.” You chuckled and allowed him to help you to your feet. Your long skirt fell back over your legs, concealing the small cuts on your knees. You took note of the way he made sure that you were all right before he appraised his own body for any injuries. 

He suddenly ducked down and grabbed something from a puddle on the side of the street, and when he popped back up with your now destroyed and waterlogged map, he smiled sheepishly at you. “How about I get us some coffee as a sorry for ruining your map?”

He finally met your gaze with the most beautiful pair of blue eyes you had ever seen. Then his stomach growled loudly and he looked away, pink dusting over his high cheekbones. “Then let me buy some sandwiches for us both.” You offered.

——————

Your friendship with Will Graham was like how you viewed the states, both nostalgic and brand new, filled with mystery and comfort. You learned quickly that he was not a very reliable friend given that he frequently disappeared into cases and his own mind but he was also an incredible friend when he was around.

He showed you all of Baltimore and taught you some tricks to navigating any city so you wouldn’t get lost. And now, he was inviting you to dinner- at his therapist’s house. 

“I would hardly call this romantic, Will.” His eyes flicked to you as he reached to ring the doorbell of the townhouse in front of you.

“I never said this was going to be romantic.” He snipped but he still squeezed your hand tightly.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You said that you were taking me to dinner somewhere nice, I assumed it was a date.”

“You’re teasing me, I don’t like when you tease me.” He muttered but you could clearly see the way the corner of his lips turned upwards in a soft smile. 

Before you could retort that he did in fact love your teasing, the door opened and the breath was sucked from your lungs. “Hannibal.”

Amber eyes widened and the careful composure he possessed, fell away. “Mylimasis.” (Beloved) Your hand went limp in Will’s hold and suddenly your vision was blurry with tears.

“I-I have to go.” But your companion held tight, his own blue eyes staring at you with an apt fascination. You could see the way his brain was ticking over, analysing each and every part of you but you refused to give anything away. “Let me leave.” 

You tried to pull from his hold and instead you were pushed into another one. Hannibal was much stronger than you remembered and he easily pulled you into his home. Will followed close behind, shutting the door with a firm slam. You would later question why he so blindly obeyed Hannibal but in the moment, you were only focused on the way your heart was breaking all over again. 

His chest was firm beneath your touch as he tugged you fully into his arms. He was older, there was no doubt about that, but the longer you looked into those golden eyes you used to know so well, the more you saw of that boy who had stolen your very soul. “My mylimasis, I never thought I would see you again.” 

Your anger flared once more, setting your veins alight with a fire you thought you had extinguished long ago. “That tends to happen when you abandon someone.” He did not even flinch at your fight.

A large, warm hand cupped your full cheek as he gazed at you just the same as he had so many years ago- you wanted to punch that look off of his face. “Even more beautiful than I remember.”

Your eyes burned with unshed tears, memories unearthing from the deep graves in your mind you had buried them in.

The first time you saw him, you didn’t think he was real. He was so beautiful he had to have been some sort of fae. His regal features practically glowed in the spring sunlight as he smiled at you. You could never clearly remember what he said to you that day in the flower fields by your small home but you did remember the feeling of his words- love, comfort, warmth.

But the day he left, his touch only brought you pain. You could still feel the way that the gravel sliced into your palms as you fell at his feet, begging him not to leave. He promised you the world yet he took the world from you. His eyes were dark, his lips turned down in a vicious sneer.

No matter how hard you tried, you could not forget the expression of pure hatred and disgust he held on that day. 

“You know her?” Will finally spoke from behind you. Hannibal finally looked away from you and to his patient who still stood awkwardly right in front of the door. 

“She is my first love.” He answered simply as you scoffed under your breath. “It seems fate brought my two loves to each other and then to me.” 

Your eyes went wide. “Let me go!” You thrashed violently but his grip never faltered. “You’re fucking crazy!” Hannibal never even acknowledged your struggle, instead nodding over your head towards his lover.

So caught up in your struggle, you didn’t hear the opening and subsequent shutting of a drawer before the heat of Will’s body drew closer and his breath tickled the back of your neck. “Don’t fight it, it will only make this worse.” His voice sounded cold and so unlike the man who would call you in the middle of the night to talk about a new stray dog he rescued.

You tried to turn your head but Hannibal firmly gripped your jaw, keeping you still. There was a pinch in your neck then warmth suddenly flooded through you. “Fuck you.” Even as your words slurred, the malice in your tone didn’t escape either man.

“Just close your eyes mylimasis, we will never let you go ever again.” The darkness swallowed you whole.

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Hannibal Lecter

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[nigel-banyai]

/̵͇̿̿/'̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿INTRODUCTION (ASKS OPEN)/̵͇̿̿/'̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿

I've been here for a while and haven't made one of these posts yet, so I figured I might as well should, My asks are open to anyone, ask me questions, (or the admin), and I'll try to answer you as soon as I fuckin' can...

About me:

𐂂 Nigel Banyai | don't fuckin ask for my middle name, only 2 people know it, Han and Twitchy.

𐂂 35 years old

𐂂 Proud Romanian 🇷🇴

𐂂 I'm a gangster | Family business and all that? HMU if you want weed ;)

𐂂 I am currently single, feel free to flirt with me and I'll engage back, sweetheart~

𐂂 Don't touch what is mine and we'll be on good terms, okay?

𝙇𝙄𝙆𝙀𝙎:

╰┈➤ Cars, guns, old western films, James Bond movies, Papanași, Țuică, Tattoo's, dachshund dogs, Italy + Their food (and men), Country shit, weed and cigs, I smoke Chesterfield Reds if you want to buy me any ~ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Masterpost:

@yourtastefulcannibal

| Relationship : Complicated Lovers | CANON

Hannibal is the first person who's made Nigel have a 'gay panic' and made him back track and realize he likes men as well as women, Hannibal is the first man Nigel has EVER been attracted to besides once when he was a boy reading a magazine about cars and seeing someone, Hannibal is Nigel's psychiatrist, they have a semi rocky relationship (From Nigel's side) because Nigel tends to use a 'push and pull tactic' from his bpd, constantly withdrawing because he is scared of opening up, often missing sessions because he can't stomach seeing Hannibal, then popping back up - however he has gotten better at this and does this less frequently; Nigel sometimes will drive to Hannibal's house, park outside and watch the door because he is worried, other times he shows up wounded with cuts or bruises on him, one time even a broken bone from getting into a fight, other times it's for dinner or a meal when he skips them, as he HEAVILY likes Hannibal's cooking and will frequently ask for seconds or to take home some; Nigel obeys Hannibal's rules in his house and office and wont smoke near the buildings or inside, and will get into altercations with people if they don't listen to said rules.

»»————————————⍟————————————««

@dr-h-lecter

| Relationship : Complicated |

Nigel see's him as annoying, but also an equal in a way, Hannibal is the only person Nigel considers to be on the same level to him - and Hannibal is always trying to knock him down a few pegs, however regardless; Nigel is like a puppy - and would follow him around (sometimes) and would fucking murder someone for him, Call's him 'Han' if you see him ever say 'Han' it's about this guy, he always call's him Lecter too, Since Hannibal dislikes the nickname 'Han'

»»————————————⍟————————————««

@luke-brandon

| Relationship : Close friends |

Nigel views Luke as a close friend, Luke and him often talk, share some of the same interests despite Luke not knowing much about James Bond and his villains - Nigel cares about Luke a lot and will try his best to protect him

»»————————————⍟————————————««

@adam-raki

| Relationship : Complicated |

Nigel think's Adam is weird - and quirky, but knows Adam has autism and has tried to subtly ask Adam questions about said autism, example : 'Whats the best thing to do when someone with Autism is overstimulated' so he can learn how to help Adam, he does care about him, and tries to research Autism in his spare time.

»»————————————⍟————————————««

@mongooseundertheporch

| Relationship : Complicated-Acquaintances |

Nigel want's to be Will's friend, but is also a tiny bit intimidated by him at times, as Will is another person that is willing to knock Nigel down a few pegs, and for that Nigel is upset at times, but knows Will has good reasoning for it, and for that Nigel views Will almost as an equal - while simultaneously wanting to be his friend.

»»————————————⍟————————————««

@adm1rationofthem0ngoos3

| Relationship : Friendly |

Nigel is friendly to Matthew, he doesn't necessarily view him as someone dangerous, nor as someone he should be intimidated by, Matthew is in the middle for him.

»»————————————⍟————————————«« @ask-zephyrkane

| Relationship : Cuddle buddies / friends |

Nigel thought he liked her when he first met her, diving headfirst, he had attempted to kiss her, but recoiled as he realized he didn't like her romantically like that, and ended up making both of them awkward, he offered to buy her dinner (Non romantically and actual dinner) as an apology, and they talked under a tree afterwards while 'snuggling' (keeping warm both were stupid and didn't bring a coat) Nigel still lets her call him nicknames whatever she pleases; since he doesn't have romantic feelings for her, he even opened up one time about liking Hannibal for her advice, making her the second person to be aware of Nigel's internalized homophobia.

»»————————————⍟————————————««

@m0n5t3r-3n3rg7

| Relationship : Complicated |

Nigel views this one as a squirt (someone short or a child) and often will say it proudly, Nigel however highly respects this one's parents (m0n5t3r-3n3rg7) and therefore won't hurt him.

»»————————————⍟————————————««

@rainy-sel

| Relationship : Same as above but friendly-er |

Nigel is often MORE open to showing Sel some hugs and stuff, but will still pick on Sel as if you were his child.

If I forgot to leave anyone out let me know, I'm including anyone who has interacted with Nigel, you are also free to ask to be removed ~

➤ You're encouraged to be weird to your hearts content, ask Nigel questions if you're curious about something, flirt with him, ask for hugs, or affection, he only bites sometimes (and certain people)

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ However Flirting - as well as any sexual comments should be made by adults, as I am one, and so is Nigel and that would be rather weird, keep yourself safe guys ♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

I am open to

Short term - or long term roleplays with Nigel - - SFW or NSFW

Relationships (platonic, sexual, romantic) as well, or flings,

My asks will always remain open, as well as dm's for anyone, I do have discord as well~!

P.S Nigel smell's like cedar wood, musk, and bourbon, as well as cigarettes.

[camusscigarette]

Hi can you do more angsty Bedannibal headcannons during their time in Florence 😊ty!

You my dear friend are in LUCK! @stellagibs0ns and I have brainstormed some of our hcs concerning Bedelia and Hannibal in florence yesterday. So here I am, blessing you with more! Go follow her as well, she makes some fantastic art and fics!!!!!

Bedannibal in Florence, Headcanons:

!!!!!!TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!!

Mentions of Suicidal thoughts, self harm-ish, substance abuse, Hannibal being the cannibal that he is, mentions of ab0rtion, angry Hannibal and alcoholism.

After he killed someone before her eyes for the first time and asked, are you observing or participating, she had answered with observing. But deep down, she thought that she may have been participating, because she also hosted those dinners, she also agreed to have guests brought to their house and that alone made her feel terribly guilty.

She does not know how to deal with her guilt. She tried to read, hell she read half of Hannibal's library and he'd find her notes in certain books as well as underlined quotes she liked from certain passages. He found it intriguing, yet he did not know why she was reading so much.

Eventually, reading became..useless when he killed Dimmond and told her that she was in fact, Participating. That's where old habits surfaced and she turned back to self destruction.

Alcoholism

SUBSTANCE ABUSEEEE. Ms girl, thought that she'd use those for when the FBI comes for Hannibal, but nooooo she used it, to drown her guilt.

Hannibal noticed the syringes but didn't say a thing, he wanted to see exactly just how far she was willing to go.

Wrong move. Why? because a near overdose almost took her damn life and he was LIVED.

He became agressive with her. He hated how she refused to cooperate. Hated how she lost so much weight and refused to eat anything even if it were pure vegan or vegetarian. He hated how she'd distance herself and fight him over anything. He hated how she couldn't own up to her own mistakes as well and kept on blaming him for everything.

He threatened to kill her on their last few weeks in Florence. How? Well he held his butcher knife to her throat and threatened to slice it open, and to his surprise and her own, she grabbed his hand and went to press the knife further against his skin. Now you're probably wondering, why did he even do that?! Well, they had a fight about Will. Hannibal hated how she kept on making it seem like Will is weak and no good and so on and so on and Hannibal used his "Well you've proved to me just how weak you also are" and , let's face it, Bedelia's tongue is CUTTING. She shredded the skies Will Graham even looks up to. And that triggered Hannibal and his anger issues of course.

He realized just how suicidal she was. He hid the knives, the coat hangers, the razors, everything sharp he hid it like he would've hidden a corpse.

On their last few days in Florence, she crawled into bed with him, cuddled to his chest and confessed everything.

She. told him she was pregnant and had aborted in secret because after he killer Anthony, she thought she'd be neck, and had no interests of being a duck with her baby duckling on his next menu for when he and Will shall dine together again.

Yikes...

[grahamcrackers4hanni]

So, a while ago in the middle of the night, I wrote the beginning of a shitty Hannibal fic. I decided to post the parts I have rn on here to see if it’s good enough to continue!

Carnival of Venice AU inspired by the Cask of Amontillado

- Blood, hannigram, main character death, m/m, murder, stabbing, drinking, masks, etc. I don't know how to do this. Alt universe, Will Graham POV, 1st Person POV, grammar mistakes, unfinished, the beginning of the story and then a small snippet of the end at the bottom of the post, and probably some mistakes in characterization. I mean I was half asleep when I wrote this. I would love ideas for costume ideas for characters if anyone has any!

Quick summary of the basic idea if you don't want to read it all:

Will goes to the festival with his friends for the first time, borrowing one of their old masks. There he met this man with a gorgeous mask; one as extravagant as an elk. He wouldn't normally be able to go up to the man with the intentions that he has due to society’s expectations to love a woman, but there he has freedom. They talk for a while and eventually, the man invites him to dinner. He told him to wear a mask with no bottom half but still hide your identity so that he’d be able to eat without taking it off. They meet again the next night and they have dinner. It all seemed pleasant and peaceful at first with the meal being like that of which Will had never seen much less tasted. It was all wonderful. Eventually, he realizes that the man nor the meat was as they seemed. The man was a serial killer and a cannibal. He had done the same thing with Will with that of many others. Yet in the end ‘I truly am sorry, William. You’ve been like no other…. For you, I think that I'll eat your heart first.’

Actual fic:

I was invited to a carnival in Venice by a friend of mine, Dr. Alana Bloom. Alana typically moves between Venice and Florence, so I wasn’t initially startled by her offer. However, I was very tentative. But, in the end, guilt weighed me towards the idea. I must admit, I’m not used to events such as this. The activity was… suffocating. She gave me a spare mask, a simple one that hides the entirety of my face. It was a golden knight.

As I found myself surrounded by a crowd of sharks, I heard the laughter of her voice grow further and further. At least she finds happiness. Eventually, I find refuge from the inane and mad near a few barrels of rum, wine, beer, juice, etc. Their unmarked property assures that it is not of a soul’s awareness, which barrel contains what. It was a gamble, but wasn’t also being at this carnival? A place to be whomever and act however without discomfort or fear.

I pour myself a handle of the second barrel’s contents. With a sip, I’m pleased to find myself consuming wine. As I stand near the stand, a stag walks over to me. His mask was black with golden accents and showed the lower half of his face. The beauty and detail left me in awe. I’ve never seen someone with such a mask. I nodded softly, readjusting my hood and mask as I stopped drinking.

“Tell me, what are you drinking,” the stag asked with an accent that left me feeling confused as I attempted to pinpoint its origin.

“Red wine.”

“I see. Which barrel? They never mark these barrels for some idiotic reason.” A scowl formed on the man’s face as he looked at the barrels with distaste.

I smiled under my mask, appreciating the stag’s scowl. “The second.”

“Ah, thank you. I appreciate your help.” He pours himself a wine glass of the drink before moving to stand next to me. “Have you come to the festival before? You seem… out of place.”

“No. This is my first time. I was invited by Dr. Bl—… the um… the woman in the bluejay mask.” I shifted uncomfortably, tilting my head towards her direction.

“Dr. Alana Bloom?”

My head perks up at the mention of her name, tilting lightly.

“She’s a friend of mine,” he explains instantly, “I would rather not provide any other details as they would hint at my identity, but please be reassured that I do know Dr. Bloom quite well. Do not hesitate to converse about her with me.”

I nod, although the fact doesn’t console me fully. I continued, “She asked me to come here. Provided my mask and everything.”

“Do you enjoy it here?”

“As you mentioned, this is not my scene.”

“Then pray tell, what is your scene, my dear?”

I hesitate for a moment looking in the stag’s mask. It was as black and dark as a nightmare’s soul or as a raven’s death. “What’s yours?”

He stays quiet, turning back to the crowd in front of them.

It stays like that for a while. The two of them together watching the others dance and drink. For a moment I see a moth attempt to court a red dragon before the dragon declines and turns away.

“Ballrooms.”I snap my head back to the stag upon hearing his newly sincere voice harboring a new emotion or maybe lack of one. “Or my kitchen,” he continues.

“Your kitchen? Do you cook? A stag like you, I would’ve assumed you to afford many maids and cooks,” I say, looking into the mask. I’m sure that the fortune it must’ve cost to make would’ve sent me to the slums.

“I can, but I prefer to make my own food. No one else would make it the way I prefer.”

I hum in understanding. “I see. I’m sure you are a wonderful cook.” He hums and nods his head.

“Would you like to find out, my knight?” My head whips around towards him, his words taking me by surprise.

“That’s impossible, stag. The masks.”

“We can eat with masks. Ask Alana for one which leaves the bottom half of your face open. We can meet again here, at the same time, tomorrow night. I will be wearing the same mask. If you do not wish to, then do not show up.” The stag looks within the crowd spotting a jester walking further into it, pushing a woman butterfly along as he laughs at her. “I’m afraid I must part. My hunger is only growing, and I must prepare dinner. I yearn to meet again, my knight.” The stag bows before making his exit, walking towards where the jester was previously, going after him. They must know each other, I conclude, watching as he leaves.

The festival was nearly closed, and the crowds had almost completely dissipated. Nearby, a bluejay waves goodbye to a woman in a pig mask. She began to trot over upon realizing my location. “Will, I’ve been looking for you. Where did you go?”

“Alana, I just went to get a drink. Who was that?” I walked over to meet her halfway.

“I don’t know, but she was nice. I wish I managed to get her name. Shall we be off?”

I nodded as she led me back to her abode. The building was in one of the many lantern-lit alleys. The walls only further reminded me of my home in Florence, causing an itch to form where the heart beats and the bones grow.

As we arrived inside, we stripped off our concealing attire. I laid my mask on the table and hung my coat on the coat rack. I studied her as she took off her costume. “Alana,” I hesitantly began, “could I attend alongside you again tomorrow night? Maybe in a mask that allows me better access to my mouth?”

Alana gave me a suspicious glance. “Oh? And what would you need it for? Don’t tell me you plan a night of pleasure for yourself tomorrow with some handsome lady?”

I felt my face tense as I turned towards the fireplace. I managed a quick shake of my head as I spoke, “No, no. Nothing of the sort. I just got hungry. It was difficult to get nourishment and quench my thirst with this mask; although, I do marvel at its beauty. It was just a little-“ I paused, trying to find the word, “suffocating.” would greatly appreciate a more appropriate mask.”

Alana nodded and went to her bedroom before coming out with a gorgeous mask in hand. It was detailed with a bone-white coloring and two things that looked like ears on the side of it. She handed it to me carefully. “I went to it as a lamb a few years back. It was…enjoyable. I hope you find the same outcome.”

I attempt to hand it back to her after feeling the hills of the lines and the cannons. “Surely you can hold onto it for me until morning.”Yet, she hands it right back.

“Keep it. You never know when you might need it.” She smirks and takes her stuff as she heads back into her bedroom. “You best be leaving for your inn. I hear that it will rain before morning.”

-

As I lay in my bed for the night, my mind kept trembling with restless moths of thoughts, crowding the lightbulb of my sanity. In the pitch of my room, my eyes kept trying to identify the white lamb mask on my dresser, but they were left to only imagine its curves and indents.

Eventually, I shut my eyes. My mind drifts off to the darker place it usually finds residence. The woods crackle and live soundly around me as I look past black, stretching trees. In it, I see a familiar suited man with a familiar black mask. He huffs as red coats his figure. A sickening cut is heard causing me to stumble on a branch, breaking it. He spins around to face me. The mask…isn’t a mask at all. It connects to its person, merging into an overwhelming beast. A black, tall, lanky stag-man stands before me covered in blood. He was something out of children’s horrific nightmares and warnings. It creeps towards me before offering a long, lanky hand. Its fingers were twisted like tree branches and as sickening as bloody organs.

“Would you care for a dance, my lamb in knight’s clothing?”

-

The next night I hesitated at the entrance. The sounds of laughter and enthusiasm were overwhelming to hear as he studied the grounds.

“Will? What’s wrong? You look nervous. You weren’t nervous last night.” Alana looks at me with a furrowed brow, rubbing her soft palms over my coat. I remember a time when I used to fawn over her touch, and frequently find my gaze drifting back to her, now I just enjoy the company.

“I didn’t- I didn’t have plans tonight. I may leave tonight without you.”

“You will?”

“I might,” I correct immediately. She raises a brow. “I’m ok.”

“You were just hyperventilating.”

“I’m- I will be ok.”

“Will, tell me what’s going on.”

I hesitate, glancing into the crowd, and catching sight of the barrels. They appear alone. A frown crosses my face without apparent reason.

“Will? Are you ok?” She takes ahold of my shoulder, trying to ground me.

“Yeah, yeah. I just-…I’ll be ok. I’ve got this. I’ll be seeing you.” I leave her standing aimless and confused as I make my way through the crowd towards the barrels.

Once I arrive, the place is lonely. Not a mask in sight, much to my dismay. I pour myself a glass of the liquid in the second barrel. My face scrunches in disgust at the taste of beer after assuming wine.

A hollow laugh erupts beside me, making me whip my head towards them. “I suppose the second barrel isn’t red wine tonight, is it?”

It was the stag. His appearance brings a smile to my face. “Stag.”

“My knight, I love tonight’s mask. A lamb, yes?” I nod. “It looks beautiful on you.”

I turn back to my drink, wishing the mask covered more of my lower face. “I believe you promised me dinner, Stag.”

“I did. How could I forget?” He offers me his arm. “Shall we be off? My home isn’t far from here.”

Hesitantly I link my arm around his, letting him lead me to his abode.

—

Test for ending:

Pain seared and burned like molten lava as the blade began to carve a slit into the folds of my skin, tainting them scarlet. The blade lifted for a moment before moving to the next area for an incision. My hands wrapped the wrist, stilling the knife as it pressed softly against my skin, eliciting a small bead of blood.

My eyes blur as I look past him… at him… the pitch, lanky figure carving me like dinner. “I see you,” I rasp, softly. My voice barely evolved to a whisper. The wind brushing branches against the panels of glass windows almost hid my speech.

My hand fell slowly as I watched the eyes above me. Crimson eyes studied mine as we held each other’s gaze. “I let you see me,” he corrected quietly. His voice hid an emotion buried deep like a skeleton in a ditch. If I believed that he cared about me any more than a random stranger picked as a victim, then I would've mistaken it for remorse or regret.

I felt as he fixed his grip on the blade, pressing it in again slightly. I didn't realize that it had faltered, previously. “I truly am sorry, William. You’ve been like no other…” He pauses for a moment, studying my eyes again, a new hunger filling them. “For you, I think that I'll eat your heart first.”

[over-active-imagination]

Family Matters (Fredrick Chilton x reader)

Synopsis: Will and Jack get to see a side of Doctor Chilton no one was aware existed.

A/n: I have not watched Hannibal in a hot minute but my thirst for Raul is strong. We are also just going to pretend our little baby is perfectly fine and NOT in danger.

Warnings: Family stuff, mentions of crimes, tooth-rotting fluff, my bad writing

Y/n sat outside by the pool watching her three-year-old and four-year-old children play around in the water splashing around happily with each other as she rubbed her swelling baby bump. Jasper and Aspen were completely content to battle it out in the shallow end of the pool. It was a nice summer day in Baltimore and Y/n was hoping these activities would wear the children out before their father came home. Sadly it didn't seem to be the case when she hears the family dog Sigmund start barking happily alerting Y/n that someone had just come home.

Throwing a glance over her shoulder she smiles seeing her husband patting the pup affectionately before the children are drawn to his presents.

"Daddy!" Aspen giggles and toddles out of the water as fast as her chubby legs could carry her rushing towards her father's waiting arms even in his full suit from work. Something that caught his company off guard.

"Hello, my darling girl" Fred smiles lifting her into his arms not paying much mind to how dripping wet she was, or the fact his wife had called after Aspen to get a towel.

"Wait...Aspy I want a hug from daddy too" Jasper the four-year-old cried also rushing out to his father who had moved to the pool deck.

"Now now Jasper of course you can have a hug too, no wining" Fredrick teases and sets his daughter down kissing her head before hugging his son. Aspen instantly peered around and noticed her father's two coworkers awkwardly watching the out-of-character display.

"Who are they? Your friend's daddy?" Aspen asks looking up at him with her bright green eyes. "Hi daddy's friends" She says not waiting for an answer causing Y/n to giggle at her daughter shifting to rise from her chair.

"Yes Aspen..now daddy and mommy need to talk can you go swim with Jasper and show him all the cool tricks you learned at lessons?" Fred hums catching her attention and she nods taking her older brother's hand and toddling off to the pool once more.

Now with the children, busy Frederick came to properly say hello to his wife. Seven months pregnant and still trying to come to him.

"Ahahah Mama, you stay right there " He hums moving to her side settling his wife back down and brushing back her hair "I need to speak with Agent Graham and Crawford about some case stuff in my office. I couldn't finish it at work I'm sorry my love"

"Thats alright handsome...oh no Aspen got your suit all wet" Y/n sighs taking in the damage of his expensive suit for work "leave it on the bed and I'll handle it okay" She fusses and he chuckles

"My love they are just clothes and its just water, it will dry on its own" He attempts to sooth her and she lets out a huff

"I know I know, but you are always so proud of your clothes baby. Ill make sure it doesn't winkle" Y/n hums and he relents nodding and leaning down to press a kiss onto her swollen stomach. “Are they staying for dinner” she adds smoothing his hair.

“I’m not sure…will gets a bit antsy when someone else prepares food” Fred hums and y/n nods gently

“Well you better invite them just in case. I won’t have them thinking we’re rude” she says sternly and Fred let’s out a small chuckle.

“Well they-“ Chilton is stopped by a finger to his lips

“Let me change the phrase..I won’t have them thinking I am rude. Now go, I have to get the little goblins bathed and wound down before dinner” she hums and he nods kissing her once more before departing to his office.

While her husband was busy, Y/n let the children play a bit longer before ushering them inside to wash off the chlorine and put on pjs. Turning on a child friendly movie Y/n sits on the couch with Aspen between her knees gently braiding the dark brown locks she inherited from her father while Jasper snuggled siggy on the love seat.

Once finished with her daughter Mrs chilton rose and headed to the kitchen to finish with dinner. She took into account of what her husband said and decided to go for a less meat heavy dish. Opting to make the children there chicken casadillas and a nice creamy Alfredo for the adults. She was just in the middle of cutting up the salad when three pairs of footsteps had her eyes rising to the hall. Fredrick was still speaking to Agent Crawford as they walk down the hall being tailed by a tall man with a mop of unruly curls and black circles under his eyes. She didn’t like how anxious the poor man seemed and bit her lip about to say something when Aspen bounces into the room.

“Daddy daddy look I drew a picture” His little girl giggles lifting the page with scribbles on it. A wide grin broke over his face as he turned his attention to her.

“That is beautiful my love. Look at this boys” he turns and shows his companions. Jack who had children of his own knew how to play along cooing over how magnificent it is while Will looked a bit lost.

“What do you think mister daddy’s friend” aspen urges in a way only she could causing will go clear his throat.

“That’s…definitely a picture” he decided on saying causing Aspy to look a bit exasperated her little nose scrunching up hands falling to her hips in a manner that reminded Y/n to much of Fred.

“That’s not what I asked. I asked if you like it” she says in a stern little voice tapping her foot causing Jack to chuckle and will to tilt his head with a small sigh.

“It could be better” Will says and the room fall silent just as Fred was about to rip him a new one Aspen cuts in.

“You’re probably right. It needs more shading on mommy’s hair” and with that she takes the paper and rushes back to the living room.

“You got lucky there…I was expecting her to start crying or Chilton to rip your head off” Jack muses coming over to Y/n and leaning on the counter.

“Oh not little Aspen. She’s too much like her father to cry infront of a stranger” She hums moving to pull three beers out of the fridge for the men. “Dinner is almost ready if you two would like to stay. I didn’t cook any meat or anything it’s all relatively vegetarian aside from the children’s meal”

Will watching as mrs Chilton rings her hands a bit anxiously. He notices that she wants to make sure he is comfortable which is something most people don’t do. Jack was about to deny the invitation when Graham beats him to it.

“I would like that very much.” He says curtly and takes a swig of beer ignoring how Fredrick and Jack look at him confused.

“Great you boys go sit at the table I’ll wrangle the children” Y/n smiles gently rubbing her hand down her husbands arm and Will watches him instantly relax. It was odd seeing Chilton in such a…domestic state, far from the domineering, obnoxious and annoying doctor he was professionally.

Slowly they make there way to the table, Fred sitting at one end Jack on the other. Just as he was about to sit the two children come skipping to the room and much to Wills dismay sit opposite each other. So either way he would have to be near a kid. It’s not that he didn’t like children…Will always wanted some of his own…it was more that he didn’t know how to talk to a child. Never having much practise and this little Aspen creature was very chatty. So doing some quick deducing he was going to sit next to the boy but a little hand stopped him.

“Mister if you sit here with me Siggy will come sit under your feet. He loooooves this side of the table and I saw you like him” she says cheerfully and Will was shocked at how much she paid attention to his behaviour

“Well I-“

“The only reason he likes that side Aspen is because you drop food on the floor for him” Jasper pipes up and Will watches the girls head twist to glower at her brother

“That is not true. And you can’t prove that it is” Aspen retorts sticking out her tongue. Causing Fredrick to stifle his laughter after a glare from his wife.

“Children. Stop it, you are being rude to our guests. Please will sit wherever you like” Y/n says gently patting his arm “I can move Aspen if you’d like to sit next to Freddie”

“No no..it’s okay” Will says and sits down slowly next to the small girl who was happily swinging her feet looking up at her father. Will caught Fredrick make a silly face causing his little girl to erupt into laughter.

Soon after that dinner was on the table and Y/N finally sat down rubbing her belly gently. Jack and will suddenly felt bad for not offering assistance and Jack went as far as to say it but she waved him off with a cheery smile.

“All I do is sit around while this baby plays soccer in my stomach. I don’t mind standing up and moving” Y/n reassures and they both nod.

They all tuck into there food Fred asking about her day. Playing little tricks on the children as they eat and Aspen talking a mile a minute without any chance of slowing down, where as Jasper sat quietly only speaking to contradict his sister or ask for more juice. Will had a strange sense of calm wash over him as he sat in the Chiltons dinning room, something he hadn’t felt for a long time and suddenly he was jealous of Frederick for being able to come home to this. While he was spinning inside his own head looking at his plate Will was suddenly drawn out of his reprieve by Aspen shrieking.

“Mommy mommy little baby is doing the weird alien thing” she shouts feigning disgust causing Wills attention to be drawn to Mrs Chilton baby bump. Where he saw the perfect outline of a little hand pressing against her dress.

“Yes it appears they are” Y/n sighs seeming less freaked out then Will, Jasper and Aspen as she simply places her own hand over it pushing the little one back. “I’m sorry sometimes I just don’t notice, this little one likes to make sure everyone knows they are there” she laughs.

“Aspen you scream but you used to do that to your mama too” Chilton teases his daughter who makes a face

“Icky. I never want a baby if they do that” Aspen huffs and Will chuckles looking at her.

“Me either” he says softly and she giggles up at him

“But your a boy. Do can’t carry babies like mamas do” she says and Will pauses for a moment then looks down at her again.

“I suppose you’re right. But still, I wouldn’t want to wake up in the middle of the night and just see a little baby hand poking out of my partners belly” he teases a bit making a little hand gesture.

Frederick watched the display and chuckles a bit. He had never seen Will warm up to anyone as fast as he was with his family. Perhaps he would talk to his wife about inviting him around more. It may help with the social anxiety he tended to fall into. Shaking his head he hears Jasper let out a little yawn and look up at him.

“Daddy can I go to bed” he asks softly and Fredrick ruffles his hair “of course bud. Take your dishes to the sink and say goodbye to Mr Crawford and Mr Graham”

Jasper nods taking the dish and coming back to say goodnight getting a hug from his mother and waving awkwardly at his fathers friends before heading upstairs to his room. Fred smiles and looks over at his wife who was looking back at him. He gently stands and takes the dishes with the help of Jack leaving Aspen, Will and Y/n at the table.

“Aspen I believe it’s also your bedtime” the Mother hums to her child and Aspen pouts.

“But I don’t want to go to bed. I want to stay awake” she argues and Y/n smiles shaking her head.

“I’m sorry little one but you and I both know you will be cranky in about ten minutes now. Say goodnight to Mr Graham and head up to bed. Daddy or I will be up shortly to tuck you in” The older woman hums and Aspen let’s out a whine before rising to her little feet.

Will expected the girl to be like her brother and wave goodbye before hugging her parents but she surprises him. The little girl moves to him first wrapping her arms around his neck and placing a small kiss on his cheek. Y/N watched Will look confused and suppress a little giggle as Aspen makes her rounds and toddles off to her bedroom.

After a polite cup of coffee and desert Will and Jack both rise saying goodnight and moving to the door. Y/n stands next too Freddie his hand around her hip as they see the agents off. But not before mentioning to Will that he is more than welcome to stop by and see the kids and the dog at home.

As soon as they are gone Frederick sighs slouching a bit. He looked completely worn out which caused his wife to chuckle a bit.

“Fred why don’t you go get ready for bed. I’ll turn the dishwasher on and be up on a moment”

Frederick let’s put a small sigh nodding and disappearing up stairs while he wife finished cleaning up. Slowly she made her way up the stairs smiling when she hears her husbands voice floating through aspens bedroom door. The younger woman pauses leaning on the doorframe listening to him lull the youngest child to sleep with the tale of Cinderella, a story he often said was ridiculous and promoted women to rely on men to rescue them but…he couldn’t say no to his little princess.

If anyone had told Y/n six years ago that she would be standing listening to the arrogant, rude and often cruel hospital administrator reading a bedtime story she would have laughed in their face. Yet, here she was, heart filled with love an admiration for her husband who was squished into a bright pink canopy bed cuddling a little version of himself.

The woman smiled and left the pair to daddy daughter bonding time to check in on Jasper who was out like a light. Snuggled deep into his bright green sheets his mouth hanging open much like his fathers did. Y/n giggled and kisses his head before turning out the light and heading to her own room. Smiling when she found that for once Fred had followed her orders.

Carefully she picked up the expensive designer suit, moving it to lay out on one of the chairs until she could tend to it in the morning. Then heading off to complete her own night time routine. Coming back out of the en suite bathroom Y/n see her husband laying out on his back only in his boxers, his eyes closed hands folded against his chest. A small giggle leaves her lips as she moves closer to him prompting the man to open his eyes sleepily and smile brightly up at his wife.

"Come here my love" He says softly reaching out for her making little grabbing gestures.

"Alright alright Mi Amour I'm coming" She giggles and slowly climbs into the spot next to him resting her head on his chest.

"Sometimes I wonder how I got so Lucky" He mumbles as his wife traces her hand over the pale scar on his stomach. letting out a little giggle looking up at him.

"Mm maybe I am just mentally unstable" Y/n teases and he pinches her hip with a playful chuckle.

"Hey watch it" He teases "thank you for today"

"It was nothing, to be honest it was nice to have someone other then two toddlers to talk to" She giggles "now lets get some sleep"

The pair snuggle deeper into the covers and relax, Frederick falling into a deep sleep feeling happy and safe with the love of his life.

[dreaminlittlenightmares]

Writing prompt: you mention before about how the Lady usually eats a guest who pays for the most. Can you write about one of these events? I just want to see the Lady being a badass and eating someone.

AU where the Lady is Hannibal Lecter

Title: It's Always Nice Having a Guest for Dinner Word Count: 805 Characters: the Lady, a Guest CW: Alcohol mentioning, Implied Cannibalism

The Lady quickly went over the list about her special Guest in her head. She was to entertain a noblewoman from the southern cities. The Guest had no known food allergies, did not have a specific diet, and preferred high-end vodka to drink.Seemed easy enough. The Lady had no preference when it came to who was to get her personal time. As long as they paid the price for it, they would have it; and, the "High Roller" Guest had to have paid a small fortune.

The Lady exited the elevator and slid open the doors to a private dining area. The High Roller was already there waiting for her, along with some appetizers and half-finished drinks. "Good evening," the Lady announced with a smile in her voice, "I hope you didn't have to wait for long."

"Oh no! Not at all" the High Roller cried out, "They told me you were on your way up. I haven't even touched the food, in case you wanted to eat first, my lady." The High Roller sounded so flirty, it was cute.

The Lady took her seat next to her Guest and picked up a piece of fried octopus with chopsticks. "Thank you for your kindness. But, the Maw prides itself on its cuisines. It would be a shame if the appetizers went cold before you could eat them."

The High Roller turned as red as a cherry. "Well, I heard you like people with manners. I figured it would be impolite to start without you." The Lady smiled and pushed the piece of octopus closer to the High Roller's lips. Her Guest ate it hungrily, as expected. The rest of the dinner went on like this. They both chatted and ate merrily, as if they were old friends reconnecting. Appetizers came and went, followed by the main course and alcohol. The Lady had a higher tolerance for drinking than the High Roller, and that came quickly apparent after four drinks.

"Uhnusher one, Miss!" the High Roller pushed her empty glass forward, "Tell meh aboush yuhr masssssk."

The Lady emptied the bottle of vodka out. "My mask?" she asked cutely, "It's nothing but a plain, white thing that protects my delicate skin, my lady. Nothing more."

The High Roller leaned in too close. "Buh whhhhhy dah masshk?" The High Roller slumped into the low floor table, making a mess of the remaining dishes. "Are you preeetttty?"

The Lady tilted her head to the side. "Would you like to see?" Her Guest nodded her head so hard and fast, it was a surprise her neck didn't snap. "Very well..." The Lady pulled of her white mask swiftly and glanced down.

The High Roller gasped in wonder and started to drool. The Lady took the woman's chin and lifted it up from the litter. "Well? Am I pretty, my lady?" The Guest was too stunned to answer verbally. She nodded again with a small 'uh huh'. The wonder in her small, beady eyes turned to desire the longer she looked at the Lady. "Would you like a kiss, my lady?" Again, the Guest nodded without thinking; and the Mistress of the Maw was happy to oblige. She lowered her lips to hers and gave the High Roller a cold, sweet kiss.

The Guest didn't resist; or rather, couldn't. She felt a breath of iciness slither down her throat and freezing her insides. But the kiss was so sweet, she didn't mind the cold. The Lady, however, pulled away and pushed the Guest onto her back. She stood over her and sighed. "Thank you for being a patron of the Maw," she said coolly, "Your sacrifice will be remembered at the next dining service." She flexed her hand into a claw and slowly closed it, like she was crushing a can in it.

The Guest reached for her throat as a tight, icy feeling choked her. She didn't scream, she couldn't. The Lady ensured that when she twisted her hand sharply, which broke the Guest's neck instantly. The Lady looked down at the dead woman at her feet and took in a deep breath. The dark magic that was in the Guest floated out and went back to its Mistress.

"Ahhh," the Lady sighed, but her relief was quickly replaced with disappointment. The life force she absorbed was barely a satisfying taste. She huffed and walked over to a panel in the wall. She slid up the panel and took the hidden phone, and dialed the kitchens downstairs.

"Hi. I'm done here. I didn't use too much magic this time. The High Roller had too much vodka, so anything that required marinating in vodka should be already done." She looked back at the Guest and paused. "I'll take her liver, though. Seared and with mushroom sauce, if we have any..."

[bi-bard]

Bright - Hannibal Lecter Imagine (Hannibal)

Title: Bright

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter X Reader

Word Count: 1,190 words

Warning(s): none (I don't think)

Summary: (Season 1) Will meets someone that is a major part of Dr. Lecter's life. He just doesn't understand how the two of them ended up so close.

Author's Note: I was listening to Amélie and my hand slipped.

Oh... and this is an excuse to work on writing in third person.

------------------------------

Anyone who saw Hannibal and (Y/n) interact together would be incredibly confused.

Hannibal was... well... Hannibal. Calculated, serious, focused on every single detail. He had small moments of humor, but they were overshadowed by his intelligence and his commitment to his work. He was what many would expect.

However, (Y/n)... was not that. They were far less serious. Their excitement showed whenever they smiled. They insisted on seeing the best in everyone around. They were also a bit clumsy, but that was only a problem if Hannibal was cooking and (Y/n) tripped at a particularly bad time.

Despite being quite different, the two of them were as close to best friends as they could be.

Hannibal tried to keep (Y/n) out of his professional work life. Someone as kind and trusting didn't need to be exposed to the behavior of some of his clients.

He never thought to introduce them to anyone on the F.B.I team until Will saw a photo tucked away in a corner.

"Who's this," he had asked during his session. Hannibal grinned at the photo.

(Y/n) had insisted on taking it. They wanted a copy to put in a scrapbook of friends and family. Hannibal wasn't one for photos, but he couldn't be the one to cause (Y/n)'s joy to dim, even for a moment.

"That's (Y/n)," Hannibal explained. "An old friend."

"It's the only framed photo in your office," Will replied.

"I'm aware," Hannibal nodded. "Why is that important to you?"

"I think it's interesting that the only person you have a photo with that your patients get to see is (Y/n)," Will shrugged, taking a little bit of joy in getting something to poke at the doctor about. "Says more than just 'old friend.'"

"I'm afraid I don't see the relevance to your appointment," Hannibal said.

"We are working together," Will continued. "I deserve to know about the person you see as important enough to show in your office."

"Well, if it's that important to you, why don't you join us for dinner," Hannibal offered. "(Y/n) got a promotion and I offered to help celebrate."

"Sounds like a plan, Dr. Lecter."

--time skip--

"So, who am I meeting," (Y/n) asked, watching Hannibal work on whatever dinner he was preparing.

"His name is Will Graham," Hannibal explained. "He's one of my patients. He works for the F.B.I."

"I thought you didn't want me meeting any of your patients," they furrowed their eyebrows. "Even though most of them are not a threat."

"Will is very different," he said.

"How?"

"Just is."

"That sounds more like me talking than you," (Y/n) smiled.

"Maybe you're having a positive impact," Hannibal grinned back as he started plating the food.

"I can only hope," they replied.

There was a knock on the front door.

"I'll get it," (Y/n) said, almost running out of the kitchen. They stumbled in the doorway. Hannibal couldn't help but cringe a little bit. "I'm fine! Shut up!"

They pulled the front door opened and smiled at Will on the other side. Will forced a grin. (Y/n) immediately noted his avoidance of eye contact and just stepped aside to let him inside.

"It's nice to meet you," they said, not forcing Will to shake their hand.

"You too," Will replied. "Hannibal said you're old friends."

"He was the first person I met when I moved here," (Y/n) explained. "He was stuck with me after that."

"I personally don't think he minds."

(Y/n) smiled at Will's comment. They could only hope so.

As they walked into the dining room, Hannibal was walking out of the kitchen.

"Welcome," Hannibal nodded at Will. "I hope you're both being civil."

"No, they're an absolute monster," Will replied with dry sarcasm. (Y/n) let out a chuckle and rolled their eyes at Hannibal.

He let an amused smile cross his lips before he motioned to the seats, inviting the pair to sit down.

The dinner went well. Or as well as expected.

(Y/n) tried to keep from their normal excited rambling, but there were times when it was unavoidable. Like when Will asked about their recent promotion. Or when Will mentioned the dogs he had taken in.

Will noticed the times the rambling started. He would watch Hannibal's entire face soften as he watched (Y/n) talk. They would talk with their hands a lot, eyes wide, and face almost glowing. Hannibal would stare at each feature.

Will was stunned that (Y/n) didn't notice how Hannibal looked at them. It was truly the most obvious thing.

When Will finally left for the night, (Y/n) forced Hannibal to let them help with cleaning. As they carried dishes from the dining room to the kitchen, Hannibal walked Will to the front door.

"Tell (Y/n) how you feel," Will said.

"Pardon," Hannibal asked.

"You watch them like they're perfect," Will explained. "I watched it all night. Say something."

"I'll see you at our next session, Will," Hannibal dodged Will's comment before closing the door behind him.

When he walked into his kitchen, (Y/n) had already started clearing the dishes. He sighed.

"No," he insisted, taking the plate from (Y/n)'s hand. "This is my job."

"I told you that I was going to help-"

"Tonight is a celebration for you, now stop," he waved them away from that side of the counter. (Y/n) dried their hands before leaning on the countertop.

"Thank you for tonight," they said after a few moments of silence. "It was really nice."

"You deserve it," Hannibal replied.

"You're too good to me."

"I don't believe there's such a thing."

That comment made (Y/n) look down at the countertop, face heating up as they let out a nervous chuckle.

Hannibal glanced up from the plate to look at (Y/n). He paused. He considered what Will had said before he left. Hannibal wasn't usually one for impulsive acts, but some things required exceptions.

He dried his hands and started rounding the corner, "(Y/n)?"

They stood up so they could look at him properly. The bright smile still sat on their face.

"What is it," they asked.

Hannibal stopped a few inches from them, "We're close, correct?"

"Yeah," (Y/n) nodded. "Of course, we are. Why do you ask?"

"I just want to say something without fearing the worst," he explained.

(Y/n)'s eyebrows furrowed, and they tilted their head. Hannibal had to remind himself to keep talking.

"I believe that I have fallen in love with you," he said.

There was a pause.

A long pause.

Hannibal was about to excuse (Y/n)'s lack of feelings. Promise that he understood. Say anything to take some pressure and guilt from them.

He didn't get that chance.

(Y/n) reached up and placed their hands on Hannibal's shoulder, pulling him into a kiss.

It was quick. Maybe a matter of seconds. Almost as soon as they had pulled him in, they pushed him back again.

"I've fallen for you too, Hannibal," (Y/n) said. "I did years ago."

Hannibal's smile almost matched theirs. He cupped the sides of their face and kissed them again.

(Y/n) was the brightest part of his life. And the only one that could catch him off-guard.

------------------------------

Masterlist (Includes links to All Writing Challenges)

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[my18thcenturysource]

I was talking with one of my friends yesterday and somehow we ended thinking about what we called "evocative films", you know, the kind of film that is A Mood, the kind that might have full scenes with no dialog and with the image of the place, sound and music, makes you feel a certain way.

I thought about Pride & Prejudice (2005), from the sunrise with the piano (I mean, what an opening scene!), to all the walking, the rain, Mr Darcy just appearing from the fog, and of course THAT CLIFF. I mean, I'm sure you saw the image at the top of the post and HEARD the music XD

I think period films (and series) are especially evocative, so here are some other films I thought about that are a MOOD. Please reblog or comment with your choices of this kind of films (or series!). Remember to click on the links so you can see the video of what I mean.

Peaky Blinders (2013-2022)

If you didn't get pulled into the world of Thomas Shelby while he's riding his horse int he noisy 1919 Birmingham, then I don't know what you are doing. But that is not my favourite Mood scene, that'd be the series 2 finale (7 year old spoiler I guess?), with the fog and the open grave, no music and a knot in our collective stomachs. Chef kiss.

The Painted Veil (2006)

1920s China, the high mountains and river of Yizhou in Guangxi, and a Perfect score by Alexandre Desplat. The locations of this film are beyond gorgeous, and the mood they set you in while you listen to Lang Lang playing Satie, is the perfect evocation of melancholy for a time and place you don't even know. Just check these scenes of Naomi Watts and Edward Norton. Just perfect.

Orlando (1992)

If you've never seen Orlando, then you are missing a very young Tilda Swinton being the ultimate shapeshifter she is, starts as a man in the Elizabethan period and changes into a woman through time. Based on the Virginia Woolf novel, I see a maze and I'm THERE. Also, yeah, I really like fog.

Jane Eyre (2011)

OF COURSE Jane Eyre had to be here, as I mentioned in a previous post, that film is A Mood. Love the colours, the silence, the fabrics, the house, the landscape, Michael Fassbender (lol). And honestly, I just LOVE Mia Wasikowska in all period films, I feel she's got a very Victorian face (does that make any kind of sense?).

Lawrence of Arabia (1962)

Along with all of the race and colonialism issues with this movie (remember to be critical of the media you consume! But it doesn't mean you cannot enjoy it!), it is such a mood and the music is just PERFECT. EPIC in the best sense of the word. One of my favourite parts is the cut with the match, and I mean, I even love the intermission music (yeah, I have seen this film way too many times).

In The Mood For Love (2000)

Come on, it is in the title. This film is such a mood, with few dialogs and iconic music, and it leaves you with a very particular feeling that will return each time you happen to see a still from the movie, when you listen to Shigeru Umebayashi's music, see the retro 60s aesthetics of Hong Kong, or when you stumble into "aquellos ojos verdes...". Also: Tony Leung.

Finally, I added two more that are not period but MAN I love so much:

Hannibal (2013-2015)

For people with strong stomachs, this series is just perfect, and the incidental sounds and non melodic music played along the perfectly curated visuals, this series is an entire mood: dark, deep, and disturbingly beautiful. One of my favourite scenes is Will sleepwalking, showing his full vulnerability; and of course, any and all dinner scenes. Each time I rewatch this series, I am left with a knot in my stomach and find new stuff to see and feel.

The Last Life In The Universe (2003)

This Japanese film is quite small, and everything starts bad and goes on to be worse and worse (WARNING: it features a lot of suicide idealisation). A young Asano Tadanobu stars in this movie that is sad, quite and moody, that talks about death and people finding love (for others and themselves).

[ghostdrinkssoup]

it’s time for the usual hannibal notes/reactions (s1 ep9 aka the beach episode) except it’s just the silly goofy ones:

omg it’s the beach episode. every show needs a beach episode

^^ this comment made me laugh so hard I went to tumblr to make the joke NFBSJDJ I’M BACK NOW

man being an npc in hannibal would suck

NOT HANNIBAL CHATTING SHIT ABOUT JACK

abigail :(((( my darling baby I’m screaming and throwing up

I’m such an abigail apologist I forgot she killed a guy NDBSJHDJS

bev in a high ponytail 🤭💖

ALANA STOP

ALANA NO

YOU COULD DO BETTER QUEEN

ALANA I’M FREE TONIGHT I’LL PICK YOU UP AT 8

WILL IS NOT YOUR DAD ABIGAIL DO WHATEVER THE HELL YOU WANT <333

I would not listen to will’s mental health advice

I would not listen to HANNIBAL’S mental health advice

“just because you killed my dad doesn’t mean you get to be him” - SLAYYY GET HIS ASS

I hate how married will and hannibal are in this scene jesus christ /affectionate

HANNIBAL IS SO THREATENING FOR NO REASON

JACK’S INSTINCTS >>> so true king

will talks to hannibal like he’s his husband 😭 chatting shit about jack AGAIN (they keep doing this)

OH SHIII THE BEGINNING OF ALANA’S HANNIBAL APOLOGIST ARC

“you betrayed my trust” - SHUT UP

hannibal is so insane fr <3

whoever plays this old man is acting his ass off rn like he knew he was getting one scene and popped off

he’s giving carl from dbh

^^ is it the same actor ??

(narrator voice) it was indeed the same actor

HANNIBAL REALLY RISKING IT ALL TO CONFESS TO WILL (he knows he can manipulate him rip)

also something shifted after episode 7/8 now they’re going full husbands mode they have such Married energy

hannibal: “you know why” - WHY DID HE SAY IT LIKE THAT ALL COCKY AND SHIT okayyy

“who knows abigail better than you or I?” - I am gonna PUT YOU IN THE SOUP

“we are her fathers now” - they went from “we’re suddenly friends” at the beginning of the episode to “we’re suddenly husbands and PARENTS” the baby trap is so real

NOT THE SHOULDER GRAB

when he says you’re dads now and grabs your shoulder 😳😳😳😳

NOT THE SALAD SCENE LMAO

WILL LOOKS SO MAD

HE’S SO ANGRY ALL EPISODE

what is this family dinner someone get abigail out of here

NOT HANNIBAL SLOWLY SIPPING THE WINE WHILE WILL SASSES FREDDIE

^^ he’s supportive 🥰

this show is a comedy

why does this sound like a parent teacher conference?? “you must understand our concerns, we care about abigail” YOU BOTH KILLED HER DAD ????

“this book is about her innocence” *cut to shot of abigail eating human meat* 😭😭

“we all want what’s best for abigail :)” HANNIBAL IS SUCH A BITCH

how dare hannibal have the biggest dad energy in this scene I’m murdering him

and omfg the boundaries between will and hannibal are completely blurred now like jesus dude “will and I are going to protect you” THE MAN STILL WON’T CALL YOU BY NAME TO YOUR FACE GET A GRIP SOLDIER

[corneliushickey]

this is one of those things where’s it’s sort of like “oh... at your big age?” but i have recently found myself in a position where i have to justify Surgeries to cis people with some degree of frequency and i just get soooo shy and awkward and sputtering when i try to do it

i spent years in higher education as an LGBT educator and i can’t even go back to the dry clinical “I identify as ‘agender’ which means that no specific gender marker really resonates with me” or to the “I am nonbinary, which means I do not identify as “male” or “female” and understand myself outside of those parameters”

it just feels... embarrassing and scripted? it’s hard to put into words. i talked to a couple LCSWs who asked me very polite questions about “how i see myself” and “why i believe this surgery would help aid my dysphoria” and like idk man. read the room. you can’t like... feel the vibe? you don’t just... get it?

my mother asked me just now with eyes full of irreconcilable sorrow why i would want top surgery and i fumbled my way through a couple sentences about how “i do not want to transition to male, but i want to be more neutral than i am” when really i just wanted to show her this powerpoint slide show

a reasonable reaction to which would be “so you want to be.... 50 years old?”

i was whining about this to my best friend and they said very accurately that when you talk about these things to queer people you can say shit like “i want top surgery because my gender is lady loki and hannibal lecter sharing a glass of wine over dinner and they’re both drinking out of human skull chalices”

and to cis people that means nothing and you just sound pretentious and hysterical

it is hard/impossible to talk to my mom about gender in general but specifically like being asked to describe my queerness to people who are not queer feels.... cringey. it feels awkward. it feels sooooo embarrassing.

but for some reason it feels that way FOR ME. it’s never “oh wow dude you don’t like... get it? cringe” it’s more like “cornelius hickey dot tumblr dot com why are you phrasing things this way? that is so embarrassing for yoooooou. what are you doing? no. no no no no nonoooooo no put the slideshow away. stop. stop it don’t do the slide show. the slide show isn’t going to help put it away”

[hvbris]

"Stop serial killing." @ Hannibal

Hannibal looked up from the piece of meat he had been slicing, and there was no doubt as to what kind of meat this was. Not that Mycroft would ever ask, but tonight's dinner had been particularly rude and deserved his place on the table. "Well, since you asked so nicely," he mused, a sarcastic little smile curving his lips. Then he simply returned to his task, visibly enjoying the irony of the situation.

"I'm curious," he finally hummed after a few minutes of silence, "do you say these things just to see my reaction, or are you really hoping I will change my... extracurricular activities? Because, my dear Mycroft, if this all really bothered you, surely you wouldn't be here with me."

[darling-i-read-it]

Pendent

Hannibal Lecter x reader

Word Count: 1.4k 

Warnings: prison 

Author’s Note: I hope you like this dear! It’s always nice to write for Hannibal, he’s such an elegant character and everything he says is so fun 

Requested: by @lzzygeekk, Hi!! I just see that you still take request , so can I have Hannibal x reader.  the reader visit Hannibal in prison when she remember in tender side or so specific memory. Maybe Hannibal made a quote from Chilton book know the she married the Chesapeake reaper. With the prompt that in found : " you give out pieces of yourself to people but never let them see the whole picture. I see it and I know who you are" ❤️❤️

Summary: the request 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Your home seemed so big without Hannibal. You thought about it all the time, his absence. When you made dinner you would stand in front of the fridge for far too long, knowing that when you married Hannibal you thought you would never have to make a meal in your life. You wanted to bring food to him but Alana didn’t allow anyone to do that. You could see him but no gift giving.

Not even on his birthday. You had a stack of presents in a corner, waiting for the day he would come back home again. 

You leaned against the kitchen counter, eating a cup of pudding. You weren’t really focusing on eating. Your thoughts were wandering. You had on a record of one of Hannibals’ old classical vinyls. You started to sway as you sat, closing your eyes and imagining what he would be doing if he was there. 

He would likely chastise you for eating a pudding cup when you could have a full meal. Then again, he was feeding you people. 

At the memory of that your eyes snapped open and you took a deep breath, shaking your head. You put the pudding cup down beside you and slid off the counter. You had the dining room windows open, causing a chill to go down your spine at the cold.

The phone rang. 

You jumped but then briskly walked over to the phone and picked it up. You stood up straight, just as Hannibal would have. You didn’t really think about it as you did it. Perhaps you were just subconsciously trying to have him here in other ways. 

“Hello?” you said. Your voice cracked a bit. You realized then you hadn’t spoken in hours. 

“Hello, Y/N?” Alana said in her professional voice. The two of you had been friends before Hannibal went to prison but when you wouldn’t divorce him she started to drift away from you. 

“Yes. Is everything alright?” You looked down at your hand, messing with your wedding ring. 

“Yes everything is fine. Hannibal was asking to see you. He says that it’s your birthday today. Happy birthday.” You looked over at the calendar that was hanging up. It was your birthday. How could you have forgotten? You rubbed your eyes. 

“Yeah uh, I’ll be there soon.” You hung up the phone and walked to go and get your coat. 

====

You walked up to the behavioral hospital. Your shoes hit the stone as you walked up the stairs, holding your bag close to your side. You walked up to Alana’s office and she was sitting at her desk waiting. 

She stood up at the sight of you, a polite tight smile on her face. You gave her a soft nod. She gestured to the door, grabbing her keys off of the desk. 

“Shall we?” You nodded.

“We shall.” 

She led you down the familiar hallway. The hallway that had become your constant companion when you went to see your husband. 

She unlocked the door that led to his cell. She gestured for you to go in and you did. She closed the door behind you, not following. Hannibal stood up from his desk. You noted that Alana hadn’t taken away any of his things this week. 

He walked over to the glass. 

“Happy birthday my darling,” he said with a gentle smile on his face. You smiled back at him and eased in his presence. It was so nice to be with him. If only Alana let you in the cage. You pulled up a chair and he did as well so you were sitting as close to each other as you could get.

“I forgot it was today. I thought it was tomorrow,” you said honestly, laughing a bit. 

“You did have a tendency to forget the date.”

“Clearly I still do,” you joked. He pulled something from his small pocket and put it in the sliding glass container. He pushed it toward you. You opened it up a small box. Inside was a tiny necklace with a golden heart pendant. “How did you get a hold of this?” You meant for it to sound joking but it came out in awe.

“I have my ways.”

“I have your stack of presents still in the corner of the bedroom,” you said, taking the necklace out. “It’s beautiful Hannibal. Thank you so much.” 

“It reminded me of our honeymoon in Florence. I had Alana to get it for me. Do you remember the beautiful pendants they had on the street we stayed in?” You laughed a tad, reminiscing on the moment. 

“Of course! I wanted to stay at your family's estate but you insisted we didn’t.”

“I didn’t want to be reminded about such sad things on such a happy occasion with you.” You thought about that trip. It truly had been magical. Hannibal knew all of the places to go and see and he was beaming the whole trip. If you thought it wasn’t possible to love him any more, that trip proved you wrong. 

“Oh do you remember that street performer? The singer?” He nodded fondly. 

“He sang one of my favorite songs. What luck that was. We were filled with luck on that trip,” he said. 

“If you’re referencing the four leaf clover I found then you’re very right, we were filled with luck,” you said laughing. Hannibal watched as your face moved and smiled with adoration. He wished he could touch your cheek, kiss your chin, run his fingers through your hair. “It was only fitting to have such a wonderful honeymoon after a wonderful wedding.” 

He didn’t want to bring it up at first. He didn’t think it was necessary but he said it anyway. 

“I believe Frederick Chilton said something similar.” You scoffed.

“Chilton said ‘It was only fitting to have a crazy wife to accompany her undiagnosed husband’. In reference to eating the food by the way. I thought the food tasted amazing, perhaps I am crazy.” He smiled slightly.

“You liked the way I prepared it.”

“Everytime. You know I had a pudding cup for lunch today?”

“On your birthday? Goodness gracious,” he said, shaking his head disapprovingly. “I’ll break out just to make you a decent meal and then I’ll come right back.”

“I wouldn’t let you come back.” His face fell a tad. The fact that he was gone clearly had an effect on you. He wasn’t surprised about that but it pained him to see nevertheless. 

“You’re not crazy. There’s not one thing Chilton got right in that book.” You nodded.

“Because you give out pieces of yourself to people but never let them see the whole picture. Chilton is not an exception. He got the psychiatrist Hannibal Lecter and a little bit of the cannibal but not nearly enough.”

“Do you see me?” 

“Of course I see you. I know who you are.” He smiled and put his hand on the glass. You put your fingers up against his, just an inch of glass between the two of you. That inch proved to always be a nuisance. 

“Happy birthday my love,” he said again. 

“Thank you Hannibal.”

Alana watched and listened from the cameras. She felt a pang of guilt seeing your hands almost touch. She was tempted to open the door herself but knew better. He may not kill you but he would not hesitate to kill Alana. It was a promise he likely intended to keep.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 8

Cult girl and Hannibal go through an exhaustive list of potential adoptive couples. 

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warning: sexual harassment, christianity, discussion of pregnancy and family planning, adoption, murder and cannibalism 

Step two: find an adoptive family.

Some would say your list of expectations for potential adoptive parents was too extensive. Impossible for any human to reach. But it was really just the bare minimum.

Regardless of if they were two men, two women, one of each, or a few people, the parents had to be trustworthy. It wasn't easy to earn Hannibal's trust, but he could recognize those who had the capacity to right away. It was a little instinct you had dubbed 'friend or food'.

On paper, the apostolic pastor and his wife of 19 years seemed like the perfect candidates. The adoption agency tried to push them on you, as they had a great track record with adopting from them prior. Three boys, all of which were honors students.

Hannibal insisted on a formal introduction, during which you could conduct a proper, though surreptitious, interview. It was an invitation to dinner.

He invited the couple into his office, where a pot of tea and an interrogation was waiting for them. Then there was you. Barely-pregnant little [F/N], feeling entirely safe so long as your fiancé was beside you.

"You're doing the right thing, y'know." The woman, who introduced herself as Mrs. Landon, said upon meeting you.

"How do you mean?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

"All god's life is precious." She said, placing a hand on your not-even-remotely-showing-yet stomach. "You're walking in obedience to the lord by giving this child a shot at life."

Strike one: bringing up religion unprompted. Strike two: touching me without asking first.

You wanted to swat her hand away, but remembered that patience was a virtue. She and her husband took a seat across from you.

"Y'know," The man began, his mannerisms eerily similar to those of his wife. "I don't usually begin with the god talk, but I think a higher power had to have been involved in the conception of this- well, our child. I'd like to think the good lord brought us together today."

Strike three: already believes he is entitled to my child. You're outta here.

"Don't flatter the adoption agency like that, Jacob." Hannibal chuckled, placing his teacup on the side table.

"I'm serious, Dr. Lecter." Jacob interjected. "Faith and I really do believe that god put us on this earth to prepare his smallest soldiers for the spiritual war."

You shot Hannibal a side glance that said 'can we please just eat them now?'.

The answer was no. Hannibal liked to play with his food.

"And your adult children have all moved out?" He asked.

"That's right." Jacob nodded. "We have plenty of room in our five-bedroom house for the new little slugger to run around in."

"And if it's a girl!" The wife interrupted. "We have enough closet space for all the denim maxi-skirts money could buy."

Strike four: arbitrarily genders the behavior of a nine-week-old embryo.

The man then returned the teacup to the table, not bothering to use the saucer and instead leaving a nasty ring of condensation on the polished mahogany.

"Okay." Hannibal huffed, resignedly rising from his seat. He pulled two hypodermic needles from his back pocket and carefully, subtly stuck them onto the couples' necks. They couldn't even scream.

The tacos al pastor that followed (after a few days of marinating, of course) were exquisite.

The next week brought a new couple to your doorstep. Frank and Angela, they were named. Their claim to fame was that their oldest son played football for one of those big southern party schools. Either Auburn or Alabama. There was hardly a difference.

You sat for what felt like hours listening to the man speak in unintelligible football babble, waiting for him to take a breath. Surprisingly, it was the mom who got him to finally shut up.

"Frank, please." She said with more frustration than this one situation even remotely warranted. Either she had enough intuition to know she was being tested, or she’d spent the last decade putting up with this. Possibly both. "You're boring our hosts to death."

"What? No way! She loves it!" Frank replied, then turned to you. Not to Hannibal, just you. “Aren’t you having a great time, sweetheart?” 

Strike one: takes advantage of the female socialization to be passive and polite, allowing himself to take up the most space.

You shook your head. “I hate football.” 

His wife looked quite pleased with herself. 

“Angie, I just wanted her to know what good breeding her son is going to have.” He said, without a lick of irony or self-awareness. He eyed you up and down and licked his lips. “And it is mutual, I see.” 

The room went quiet as everyone tried to determine whether he was serious or if it was just a fucked-up joke. The longer the silence lingered, the more you realized he wasn’t kidding. Angela looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“I don’t know what the agency told you, Mr. Wyatt,” Hannibal said, trying not to grit his teeth. “She isn’t a surrogate. She’s already pregnant.” 

Frank’s jaw hung dumbly open. “I thought you were looking for a sperm donor? I just-” 

“No.” You cut him off, raising your hand and covering your face. “I don’t want to know what you thought.” 

“Well, I would!” Angela interjected, righteous fury eclipsing what should have been crippling embarrassment. “What exactly did you think this was, Francis?” 

“The file said that he was over fifty, so I just assumed--” Frank rationalized, his voice far too loud for the room. “Y’know? That she wanted a baby that wouldn’t come out all funny-looking?” 

“You’re disgusting.” You blurted out. 

“Francis Howard Wyatt,” Angela scolded as if she were talking to her son. “You are forty-eight and the only increasing part of your body is your blood pressure. Why on Earth would any woman choose you over her smart, handsome doctor fiancé?”

This made Hannibal sit up a little straighter. He wanted Francis on the butcher’s block yesterday, but he momentarily considered letting Angela live. 

“They’re not married?” Frank whispered, or whatever the loud-aggressive-toxic-masculinity version of whispering was. He paused, as the dead hamster on the wheel powering his brain crept back to life. “That actually makes sense.” 

Angela loudly smacked her hand against her face. “Dr. Lecter, Ms. [L/N], I am so sorry.” 

“It’s quite alright, Mrs. Wyatt.” Hannibal stood up, readying the next batch of needles. “It just makes what I’m about to do easier.” 

It took quite a bit of restraint to not make their deaths hurt, but he made up for it when it came time to carve. He had fun running his fittingly small penis through a meat grinder. Not with any intent to cook it, though. Just because. 

Hannibal wanted to make Francis Wyatt into the least dignified meal imaginable. You quickly recalled going to a friend’s barbeque in Georgia and encountering a horrendously Southern delicacy known as Frito Pie. You proposed the idea to Hannibal, who, after reviling in abject horror at the notion of eating something out of a bag, agreed that it was the most fitting end. He could spare a few pounds of flesh to grind up and make into chili. 

The third week brought yet another couple. They seemed smart enough to realize your invitation wasn't the friendly olive branch the others had interpreted it as. Their healthy skepticism was refreshing, to say the least. Then, you met them: Max and Archie.

"You'll have to forgive my partner's paranoia." Max said upon entering the house. He tugged playfully at Archie's hand. "We watched Get Out recently, so an invitation to the suburbs sounded some alarms in his sleep-deprived brain."

"I love that movie." You chimed in. "It reminds me of my family."

"Oh no." Archie's eyes widened in only half-pretend fear. He shot an I-told-you-so look in his partner's direction. 

"But my favorite horror flick has to be Midsommar." You added. "My friends and I saw a midnight screening and we didn't sleep at all that night."

"But have you seen Hereditary?" Archie posited.

"Of course." You shrugged. "Aster is totally genius."

You made more than just polite conversation with the couple. Max, despite his young age, was a skilled data analyst and day trader. He attributed his success to the hard work of his immigrant parents. Archie was an environmental lawyer and land activist. He was also a bit of a thrill junkie, indulging in everything from scary movies to bungee jumping.

It didn't take long to realize that you wouldn't be eating them. They were far too pleasant of company to eat.

"So when is this baby planning to make its entrance?" Archie asked, gesturing to you. "You don’t look all that pregnant to me."

You put your hand over your slightly-protruding stomach. "Late August, I believe. If everything goes according to plan."

"You're not far along at all, aren’t you?" Max observed. "That gives us plenty of time to prove ourselves to you."

"Believe me." You put up your hand. "You're doing a great job so far."

“If you like horror stories, we might have to indulge you in the last two encounters we had.” Hannibal commented, leaning back comfortably in his chair. That was a good sign. “No blood was spilled, thank god. Would have ruined my carpets. But believe me when I tell you it came very close.” 

The couple laughed along. Archie leaned in like he was about to tell a life-shattering secret. “You wouldn’t believe the hoops we had to jump through to even have the chance to adopt. And I don’t want to say that it’s because we’re an interracial gay couple, but...” 

“Agencies aren’t exactly colorblind.” You finished, via his prompting. 

“She gets it.” Archie pointed to you. “See, Maxie? She agrees with me.” 

Max pushed his glasses up his nose. “I never said I disagreed.” 

You spent the rest of the afternoon waiting for the conversation to take a sharp left turn off a cliff, but it didn’t happen. They were wonderful company; polite, intelligent and articulate. Exactly the kind of people you’d want to see taking care of your child. 

You’d have to look for you next meal elsewhere. 

[meilas]

1993 Franc review

The video opens with Christine (Tracy Shane) taking her bow after her premiere performance in Hannibal. The quality of the video is noticeably poorer than the two ‘98 videos, but the silhouettes of the costumes make it fairly easy for those of us who are slightly face-blind to tell the characters apart. Madame Giry has a good stick that actually booms when she slams it on the ground. A boomstick, if you will.

We get a brief moment of Reyer conferring with Christine before the Phantom’s voice (Franc D’Ambrosio) congratulates her with a floating, ghostly tone and then Meg shows up to congratulate her friend. Franc’s unique singing voice is well-suited to this role. It has an element to it that is evocative of Hugh Panaro’s but with an unnerving intensity that is uniquely Franc. Almost like wind blowing through the trees on a winter night.

The video then jumps to immediately after Raoul (Ciaran Sheehan) has left the dressing room, and we can once again hear the Phantom.

This is a much younger Franc and it shows. Where in the 1998 videos, the Phantom was just annoyed by Raoul presuming that he will take Christine to dinner, this Phantom is angry and almost shouting his words here.

Even when telling Christine to “look at [her] face in the mirror” he has an aura of threatliness. (Unfortunately we cannot see him in the mirror in this video, but we can see his hand which is very expressive. More on that later.)

After Christine’s “come to me, strange Angel” there is a pause where we can hear the organ or synth growing louder, and then the Phantom begins to sing. I can only assume here that he was so excited to finally meet Christine face-to-face that he momentarily forgot what he was going to say.

The title song is very dark save for a few white splotches which would be Christine in the boat and the lantern that the Phantom is holding. He seems to have forgotten all about Raoul at this point.

At “I am the mask you wear” he almost sneers “it’s me they hear.” This man is a genius who is tricking the world. Humanity hates him, but it’s him, through Christine, that they are hearing because it is his tutelage that has allowed her to sing like this. Not anything like, you know, actual hard work.

I would also like to point out that the orchestra is on point on this particular night, and the percussion especially is coming through loud and clear.

Franc is very good at projecting, and there are times that Tracy is not audible during the moments when they sing together. It will be interesting to listen critically to her other duets, such as the one she will share with Ciaran on the rooftop. It is usually hard to hear Christine during Final Lair, so I am not holding out much hope being able to hear her there.

At last we can see them together in the boat fairly clearly, and we can see some of what makes Franc’s acting unique. He has a way of using his hands that is slightly creepy, yet also sensual. Every movement is graceful, yet planned.

He helps Christine out of the boat and leads her to the left side of the stage and he is looking at her for the entire walk. She has his complete attention. We get a nice head roll from Christine here; it looks like she’s into this strange man and his lovely voice.

The Phantom wraps himself in his cloak here very slowly before swishing it open. He almost looks like he’s trying to physically hold what Christine is singing. The hat comes off and he tosses it who-knows-where, we just know it needs to be off. Now. Try a coatrack, buddy. This is followed by him flipping the cape over his head in one of the most dramatic and energetic de-cloakings I have ever seen. It is meant to mystify and dazzle Christine, like one of his old circus performances that Madame Giry later alludes to. Even with the poor quality of the film, we can still see a smile on his face. He ensures his hair is in place and gives himself a quick rubdown, which is less sensual and more like he is checking to make sure his outfit is in place. Everything needs to be perfect for his houseguest. He barely takes his eyes off her even while rushing over to start playing the organ. His timing is pretty good here; he doesn’t look like he’s just randomly banging the organ. He reminds me of a bird dancing to attract a mate. This whole performance is meant to awe Christine and keep her from looking too closely at him.

Music of the Night is where the Phantom turns gentle. He has Christine where he wants her, she’s away from the boy, so he can calm down just a little. His voice softens, and so do his gestures. Christine is still cool about being five floors under the opera house with a complete stranger and without having told anyone where she’s gone. She seems fully prepared to kiss the Phantom when he sings “turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light” and smiles when he gets close to her. Her boldness perhaps frightens the Phantom a bit. He loses his courage and scurries back to the organ once again. This seems to be an area of comfort to him. This is where he’s in control, which is why the lead-up to MOTN starts there.

Franc has the most beautiful “soar” here. There is a brief pause between it and “start to” and he jumps right to the note without sliding into it. It is also sung so softly, yet it comes through so clearly.

At “softly, deftly,” he comes back out from behind the organ to stand a few feet from Christine. He holds his hands by his hips as he does so, as if he is almost holding himself back. Those two words were a little hard to understand, owing to their similarity to “slowly, gently.” (I cannot tell which two words he sang; whether he forgot the words and used different ones, or if the clarity was lost owing to the age of the video.) He then holds his hands out to Christine in a clear invitation to follow him while he retreats to the portcullis. He wants her to see this.

The pose he takes on the portcullis is an interesting choice. At first it looks like he is merely putting himself on display for her perusal, but when one looks past that, they may notice that he is assuming almost the pose that Jesus Christ is in on the crucifix. In the story and especially the novel, Christine is the Christ figure. She is the one who is prepared to sacrifice herself to save Raoul’s (and the Daroga’s) life, just as JC sacrificed himself for humanity’s sins. Christine is also the one to offer forgiveness and compassion to the Phantom, thus “saving” him. (What follows that in the novel is the trope known as “redemption equals death” wherein an evil character who has been redeemed will shortly thereafter expire from life.) The Phantom assuming the JC pose could be him trying to link himself to Christine’s religion (she’s Catholic) and remind her that he is her Angel of Music, or perhaps her savior.

Lots of arm movements when he comes off the portcullis. Christine has recovered from her shock. Tiny struggle on the “be,” he had to slide up to it. But we understand. It’s a hard note. He gives Christine the Phantom Hug™ and she melts into it. He grazes her boob and there is no break in the expression of utter bliss on her face. She is exactly where she longs to be.

The Phantom is a little slow to react to Christine falling after the mannequin reveal. He kind of leans forward as she tips backward, almost like a dog tilting its head. It is likely he thought she was trying to sit down but as soon as it is clear she has indeed fainted he rushes over to get her a blanket his cape. She’ll be more comfortable with it, right? He sings most of the line “you alone can make my song take flight” while kneeling on the floor.

We are treated to some very aggressive organ playing when the stage is again lit. He looks like a toy music box player. Then he sits down with a flourish of his quill to write what he was playing. He’s very excited about whatever he’s writing, as he will occasionally wave an arm in the air. It is here that Christine sneaks out of the bed-cum-boat and comes up behind him. Clearly no one has ever told her not to sneak up on someone while they’re composing. Bad manners, Christine. She’s grinning as she sings her lines and reaches for his mask.

She whips off his mask and the Phantom can only stare at her in shock for an instant before she screams and runs. He, predictably, covers his face, but one can’t help but feel that what follows would not have followed if she hadn’t screamed. What follows is the Phantom chasing Christine around the room at a half run, pointing angrily at her while he berates her for her curiosity. The man is nothing if not dramatic, and he begins wailing and drops himself to the floor. He sings most of his lines from one spot on the floor, but starts to reach for Christine at “yearns for heaven” which again invokes the themes of Christianity. He begins to crawl toward her at “fear can turn to love” and has some weird enunciation on “monster, this” but then the Phantom isn’t used to interacting with people so his rhythm of speaking of probably off. Christine recoils when he gets near her, and who can blame her? He just screamed at her in one breath and in the next called himself a monster and begs her to accept him. We are treated to a high-pitched moan on “oh, Christine!” which is just one of presumably many that will follow in the next at least five years. Christine is moved by his show of sorrow and returns his mask. He hesitates before accepting it, but quickly dons it and returns to his normal, confident self and even shows off a bit of leg. She’s seen his face and there’s no coming back from that, but he has other things to offer. For a moment he looks like he’s going to kiss her because he has a hand under her chin (evil) and leans close before grabbing her wrist. “Come, we must return,” he says, and the dream is over.

The video then cuts to Il Muto. Christine and Carlotta are performing their scene on the bed, and the filmer pans up to the balcony above the stage. Suddenly a spotlight turns on, and the Phantom is visible. He’s angry because Raoul has decided to sit on Box Five, which is supposed to be reserved for the Phantom.

Franc seems like he’s having fun in this scene. He gets to run around in the dark and pop up and surprise the audience. Very good laughing at Carlotta here. His “behold! She is singing to bring down the chandelier” is said in the same tone one would use when saying “congratulations! You’ve just won a new car!” so perhaps this Phantom would be a good car salesman or gameshow host.

Minor flub from one of the managers here, he says “the role of the count” rather than “countess.” Unless Christine has suddenly become a bass and is going to take over the Don Atillo role. Give her pants and a funky wig. We love to see it. We barely get to see the flustered manager decide to have the ballet from act three performed early before the video cuts to the end of Christine’s and Raoul’s rooftop duet. Which is fine because I always tune out for that part anyway.

We get a nice closeup of Franc chilling leaning over the angel statue sirsitthefuckdownplease. The Phantom sounds like he’s in tears. He lets out the most heart-wrenching “oh Christine” and his voice fucking breaks on the last syllable. This man is in pain. Please help him. He slumps over on the statue and proceeds to cry, but straightens up when he hears Raoul begin to sing. We have barely heard Raoul this entire video, so it’s nice to know he has a nice voice. Meanwhile, the Phantom begins writhing trying to not listen to the lovers below but it isn’t working. He is ticked and we get to hear Franc’s trademark voice.

The Il Muto cast comes out for their bows, and Franc gives us a great “has completely lost it” laugh as the chandelier crashes to the stage.

[END OF ACT ONE, BEGINNING OF ACT TWO]

The end of Maskenball is great. I love crowd songs. I know nothing about dancing, but Raoul looks like he’s having fun. Of course, that doesn’t last very long because the Phantom decides to crash the party. He’s wearing some nightmarish red getup. He looks like he’s cosplaying a balloon animal in that outfit. No trapdoor in this production; there’s a flash, some smoke, and he hightails it through the crowd. His double comes down the stairs (or is it him again?) and he gives us another hysterical laugh, further cementing the fact that not all his candles are lit anymore.

Raoul chases after Madame Giry, and he sounds very angry. Ciaran has a surprisingly deep voice. I would love to see a full video of him😉

The video cuts to the end of Wishing. This filmer had a mission. And that mission was Franc.

The chiaroscuro in the graveyard is nice, and Franc has beautiful enunciation here and we get a FATHERING GAZE!!! I can hear Tracy in this duet but it’s hard to understand her. The one thing I’m noticing now that Franc is obscured by shadow again is that I’m hearing a lot of vibrato from Tracy. The Phantom sounds angry at “you resist” so it really seems like Franc is going for the angry and possessive Phantom in this iteration. We’ll see what take he gives us in the other two videos.

Franc hits a couple of the not-usual notes at “I am your Angel of Music, come to me, Angel of Music” but it’s consistent so I think he was trying something different here. The Phantom doesn’t sound overly angry when Raoul butts in, which lends credence to my headcanon that the Phantom is just playing with Raoul here. He sounds a mite angrier while he’s shooting fireballs, but overall he seems to be having a good time. It’s only when Raoul and Christine leave that the Phantom actually wails at “don’t go!” He practically screams his next line “now let it be war upon you both!”

The video cuts to just before the premiere of Don Juan Triumphant. The Phantom is screwing around with the managers and Raoul and the police, finally revealing himself in his box and narrowly avoiding a bullet. Cheeky boy. (The managers are great here, they are holding on to each other just like you’d expect Victorian opera co-manager husbands to do.)

We cut to Don Juan Triumphant where we can see our friend the time-traveling Mr Stolle cleaning up the table a little. Unfortunately he didn’t have time to straighten the tablecloth. Christine Aminta picks up an apple and begins playing with it. The Phantom enters, wearing the goth version of the Spanish Inquisition robes and he fusses a little with the shower curtain. He wants to make sure that no one disturbs Piangi’s nap. (I would like to point out the meta hilarity here of an Italian-American man playing a deformed Frenchman pretending to be Italian.) Don Juan surveys the mess that is the table before picking up a goblet. He approaches Aminta tentatively at first, and then does a bit of a quickstep and she turns away. Is she scared or is she teasing him? She looks offended when he takes the apple out of her hand. Good sir, I think she was going to eat that! He hands her the goblet, then proceeds to stroke his hand down her arm. He may have even grazed her boob. She does not seem concerned about this. They move to the bench where Aminta tries to touch his face, and he becomes spooked. That isn’t how the blocking is supposed to go, and Christine retreats. She sings her next lines, and the Phantom adjusts the hood, making sure she doesn’t know it’s him. The poor man is so moved by her singing that he can’t sit still on the bench. She grabs his hands, and then strokes his leg helps him make sure there are no wrinkles in the fabric. Any wrinkles are soon forgotten because she discovers that it’s not Piangi under there, it’s the Phantom! He does a hilarious awkward flail, trying to grab her other hand before jumping up from the bench and dragging her center stage. He’s reaching for her waist when she throws back his hood, startling him.  We hear a small whimper from him (had to turn up the volume to confirm it) just as he turns to run. Christine books it in the other direction, but something stops both of them and the Phantom begins to sing to her. We again get to hear Franc’s unique way of singing his lines. His operatic tenor is on full display at “anywhere you go let me go too.” I love Christine’s reaction here, the way her hands come up like she’s trying to stop him from getting any closer. He hands her his ring which she immediately puts on, and he goes in for a kiss. Christine looks like she’s going for it too, tenderly placing her hands on his face, only to rip away his mask and wig. How rude. This is the second damn time this girl has done this to him. She must really hate masks. He gives a little yelp when his face is bared, then backs up and screams at the ceiling while Christine can only stare at the mask and wig in her hands. Maybe she didn’t know it was a wig. (When Franc does his scream toward the ceiling, we can see that there is a slit in the Don Juan robe in the front because we can see his trousers and jacket clearly.) The Phantom grabs her and runs offstage. Meg interrupts Piangi’s nap with a scream, and the video jumps to the lair.

I love his enunciation on “cold and dismal place” like it’s not a home, it’s not even a lair, it’s just a place. He also puts emphasis on “not for any mortal sin.” He briefly grabs Christine, then shoves her backward into the prow. It could be my imagination, but I think he looks a bit startled here, like he realized that he shoved her. He is briefly distracted by the sound of the mob, but then turns back to Christine and continues telling her how humanity has always hated him for his appearance and he’s always been alone. He wails at “Christine, Christine, why? Why?!” and our heart is breaking for him. They go offstage, and we get a view of the lovely candles and Madame Giry’s voice warning Raoul to keep his hand at the level of his eyes, and that the Phantom lives across the lake.

Look at all the candles.

Even more candles.

At last! Some light! We see Christine get thrown toward the throne, and we can see Barb pouting on the throne. At least she has the veil to keep her warm, since Christine is now wearing her dress.

The Phantom is not standing up straight anymore. He points at her at “joys of the flesh” but turns it to himself at “this face” and almost squeaks at “poisons our love.” This man is not okay. Christine is not having any of it, and turns away. The Phantom indulges in some self-pity, sobbing at “fear and loathing” and his voice breaks at “a mask.” He quickly snaps out of it though; no one can feel sorry for him but himself. He dashes over to the throne and snatches the veil from Barb’s head with even less consideration Christine showed when snatching his mask. He puts the veil on Christine’s head, and she does not react. She is not having any of this. The Phantom then takes away Barb’s last bit of dignity, the bouquet, and thrusts shoves it into Christine’s hands. He isn’t paying attention to what she’s saying until she says something about his soul… however there’s something more important happening: they have a guest! And not just any guest, but it’s Raoul! The Phantom is delighted that the vicomte has shown up! He gets to show off his candle collection! Poor Barb gets tossed aside so that the Phantom can sit comfortably. He’s had a long day. He’s been almost shot, and he helped Piangi take a nap, and he got to sing a duet with Christine on stage… before she took his mask again.

He leans over the side of the throne to sneer at them, “your lover makes a passionate plea” before sitting up straight again like a pouting child. He starts to throw a fit again at “the world showed no compassion to me!” and then Raoul begs to be allowed to see Christine. The Phantom obviously thinks that Raoul is being rude by demanding to be allowed inside to see Christine, and lets him know by saying “be my guest, sir.” He raises the portcullis and Raoul rushes inside. The Phantom sneaks around the back of his throne, then comes up behind Raoul and puts a noose around his neck. That’s kind of an excessive reaction; after all, Raoul was only shouting at the Phantom, which, while not nice, does not warrant being strangled. Christine tries to help Raoul out of the noose, and while her height is not an issue (she and Raoul stand at about the same height) the noose is pretty tight. The Phantom runs over and drags Christine away and gives her an ultimatum: choose him or the vicomte will die. I like how he looks over at Raoul when he says “your lover.” He pushes her to the floor and marches over to the organ to the rhythm of “this is the point of no return.” He’s back to his comfort zone, the true throne of his kingdom.

Tracy starts out strong in the trio, but she is easily drowned out by the tenor and the baritone other tenor. She runs over to Raoul and it looks like she’s trying to apologize perhaps for getting him into this situation? The Phantom comes out from behind the organ, and Christine jumps in front of Raoul to protect him. We hear an excellent “why make her LIE to you” from Ciaran here. I would love to see a full video of him. Christine reaches for the Phantom and he scurries away from her with a loud “bah!” and we get a funny little hop at “his life” when he gestures to Raoul and tells Christine that that is the prize she must earn.

He attempts to look stoic when he sits on his throne again. He is through listening to Christine. She needs to make her choice.

And she has.

She spins him around so quickly it’s a wonder he didn’t get whiplash, and she finally gives him the kiss that he has missed out on twice now. He is so startled he doesn’t know what to do with his arms when she hugs him. She kisses him once more, and when she pulls away he follows. (The video is very shaky here. I can only assume that the filmer was sobbing.) He considers her for a moment before seeming to withdraw into himself. At last, he straightens up for the first time and walks over to the organ. But instead of playing it, he grabs one of the candles from it. He looks like he’s trying to keep Christine away from him, and then he turns the candle toward Raoul. He makes an unnecessarily high jump to burn the lasso here. He then collapses against the side of the organ. Again, this is his comfort zone; he’s trying to comfort himself and draw strength from it. He staggers over toward the throne while asking them not to reveal what they know of him. He screams on the first “go!” and I think he’s using safe screaming skills here because he’s currently 59 and still singing professionally and he still sounds amazing. The Phantom chases Christine and Raoul out of the lair, then returns in time for the music box to start playing. He’s doubled over and gasping here, then he kneels by the music box and sings a sad refrain from Maskenball. Christine returns to hear it, and the Phantom notices her. He jumps up and tries to wipe away some dust on his pantleg. He cannot stand up straight, even while telling Christine that he loves her. This man is absolutely broken as he goes over to cradle the veil and use it to wipe his tears. He starts to slowly wander, looking like a lost child. We get to hear Franc’s operatic voice once more for his last line, although he doesn’t hold the last word quite as long. He moves over to the throne and sits down like he’s suddenly aged about 50 years.

In conclusion, Franc does some weird shit with his acting and I am here for it.

[timextoxhajima]

Playlist Feels: SHORT SERIES PART 1

Member: stripper LEE JUYEON

Genre: angst, smut, exes to lovers because why the fuck not lmao and it fits the song anyw

A/N: at the point of writing this I WAS TIRED AND SLIGHTLY DRUNK BUT LETS GO. also, NOT part of the GEN Z series, i have racer juyeon in stall for you in gen z ;) also i told V that i was never going to write a stripper au for jy until he goes shirtless or grinds on a prop like kim kai did in artificial love... but when i saw this video, i thought of nothing BUT kim jongin. their styles are pretty similar... not to mention kai had an undercut phase too... conclusion: dana is in a mess and she’s drunk

“i know it hurts to smile but you try to.”

what is a story?

a story has a start, an arc, an ending. 

is it pages of cream colored sheets stacked atop one another, word after word after word printed in ink?

is it the lyrics that your neighbour sings in the shower because he associates the beauty of the lyrics with some heartbreak he’s been through, regardless of when he experienced it?

is it the way someone walks in the room and steals everybody’s attention with the sheer amount of confidence and intimidation he was radiating?

so, what is a story?

ups-and-downs. friendship. love. heartbreak. faults.

‘it was my fault, and it always will be.’

god wouldn’t have allowed you to forget that face even if you were dead, even if you had your skull cracked open and your brain was being eaten out in bits like Hannibal Lecter savouring the flesh of his victim. 

it feels like a witch’s long, untamed nails were being dragged across your skin, and she was breathing down your ear, whispering secrets of potions and words to curses like they were part of a song. 

he who is inked in your heart made of stone will never be removed.

blood that runs thick in the color of love forbids a stake foretold.

bones crumble to dust like fine sand in the wind,

for you will never forget that you have sinned.

the scars on your heart slowly tears apart like a wound that never healed, and every step he makes on the space makes you wish that he was stepping on your soul instead. 

not because you were sexually frustrated, but because you deserved it.

“y/n, lighten up! we’re here to have fun, not watch your mopey ass sulk!”

“yeah, you’ve been so stressed lately, don’t you think it’s time to loosen up?”

“for the record,” the music starts to thump in your stomach and the lights dim into a dark shade of red. “i didn’t want to come to a strip club.”

blood has covered the light, for his soul cries over your misdoings. 

“ugh, you’re such a party pooper,” she huffs, visibly frustrated when her forehead creases into lines under her makeup. 

the memory of you aggressively avoiding being dragged to a strip club rings in your ears like a fire alarm. sometimes, you would’ve loved nothing more besides throw a chair when she acts like that; making it seem like you wanted to do something when you’ve clearly stated you didn’t.

unfortunately, you were used to her shitty little habit. 

coercion sprints itself across your arm when she suddenly grabs it, violently shaking you when the music starts. 

dread washes over you like wildfire when he starts to move, and he suddenly becomes one with the music. 

the whiteness of his skin grabs you by the neck and sticks an ice-cold popsicle down your throat. you could still taste the sourness of the lemon flavoured one he would always give you, even though he liked it too.

the shiny, glittery, loose clothes hanging around his physical existence freezes your muscles the way medusa could turn people into stone. the hairs on your arms stand when you remember how small you looked in his clothes.

and his eyes. they hold a dagger at your heart, tip already sinking into the skin on your chest. 

black, sticky, dense tears flood out every hole of your soul’s mouth.

it takes a massive amount of effort to keep every dollop of excruciatingly painful memories to yourself, for you would’ve thrown up your dinner if you didn’t invest that kind of effort.

in your head, you were a demon coated in tears and smudged ink. 

stuck in time like a statue, your eyes were hollow and your voice was no longer. 

red, the color of blood mixed with poison was spewing out every hole from your face, your knees hitting the ground where the a bed of thorns were laid out carelessly.

the same way you laid out the bed of roses for him, only to become his thorns.

the start of the story began when you first locked eyes with him first in the neighbourhood library near your school. 

you never really liked studying in school, not when there were always noisy kids tossing a ball around or someone loudly crunching on chips next to you.

it doesn’t take long for you to notice that he’s been watching you, resulting in you warily turning around to look behind you to see if he was looking at someone else.

a soft chime in the hall pulls your attention to the old clock hanging above the entrance of the library, and an announcement rings through the PA system.

“dear visitors, the time now is 11pm. kindly exit the library and dispose of any litter you may have with you. we hope you’ve enjoyed your time here and we hope to see you soon.”

it was exactly because it was so late, that there was nobody left in the library.

carefully, you return your attention back to him, music still playing softly in your earpieces.

his eyes were glued to his books as he clears them off the table, and you remain seated, taking your time to pack your things as well.

you were hoping he doesn’t come over, so naturally, you panic when he does.

feigning the mindless scrolling on your phone doesn’t do much when he presses his palm flat on to the surface of the table, robbing you of an option to ignore him.

well, you could, but you recognise him. 

how could anybody not recognise him?

his eyes meet yours and intimidation fills you like you were drowning, but he suddenly squats with the support of his hand gripping onto the edge of the table, eyes darting away.

a frown finds itself on your face and you watch cautiously when he stands up again, placing a pen and a candy wrapper on the table before you.

“planning on hiding in the bathroom and staying overnight?”

“i... uh-- no...”

“okay,” releasing the edge of the table, he grips the two straps over his shoulders by the sides of his chest and nods towards the exit. “time to go then.”

lee juyeon had always been a rather mysterious character in school. he was two years your senior but it wasn’t surprising to know that he was friends with three of your classmates, one of them being your closest friends. 

when he wasn’t smiling, he looked like he could kill someone; drive a knife through their faces and not feel a pinch of guilt.

but when he does, it’s like setting off a billion firecrackers at once.

and by firecrackers, you mean the girls in school swooning over him.

if you had to choose a word to describe the way you looked at him, it had to be ‘indifferent’. you couldn’t deny that he was a great painting to look at and pretend ‘ugliness’ wasn’t a thing, but you’ve never really bothered to invest your emotions on anybody you deemed too far to reach.

so when he offers to walk you back to your place because of how late it was, it surprises you. 

“why do you study in the community library and not the school library? i thought i’d see you with sunwoo or eric or hyunjun in school.”

“uh... i stay for awhile just to watch them mess around until they lose their stamina... the school library is filled with idiots who eat and make a fool of themselves which make it not-conducive... so i thought the community library is a better idea. besides, the school library closes at 7pm.”

“ah,” he laughs, and you could hear the swooning in the back of your head. “why am i not surprised?”

silence. 

the awkward atmosphere was killing you, and it was difficult to swallow the fact that you could not think of anything to say.

luckily, you stay just about a ten minute walk from the library, so juyeon walks right past your residence without noticing you’ve stopped.

“uh-- juyeon...”

“huh? oh,” he halts in his tracks and turns around, sheepishly taking large steps back to you. 

“thank you for walking me back.”

“it’s alright.”

silence, again.

“...goodnight.”

“goodnight, y/n.”

you purse your lips and offer him a polite smile, slightly surprised that he knows your name. 

then again, he knows three of your classmates, and you were good friends with hyunjun. 

he doesn’t leave until the lift takes you away from the lobby, the view of him waving to you with his unwaxed, tousled hair makes you smile to yourself once out of sight.

the arc of the story comes when you start to find candy under your desk a few weeks later. 

you had stopped visiting the library because you were cooped up at home working on projects you needing your laptop for. 

the sugar left on your desk seemed to be some kind of coaxing to get you to go back to the library.

the candy on the desk was the same one that you ate at the library, the one with the wrapper that juyeon picked up--

“hyunjun,” you call out to the boy who was passed out on the table, walking towards him. 

“go away, i want to sleep--”

“you’ll sleep in class anyway,” grabbing his shoulders, it takes you some effort to peel him off the desk and make him sit upright. “you know who left this and i want to know who.”

hyunjun looks at you with bloodshot eyes, brows furrowing as he messes up his own hair.

“you sound like you already know who, so why do i need to bother telling you?”

the plastic of the candy wrapper crinkles in your hold as hyunjun’s head meets the table again.

again, it doesn’t take long for you to find out that juyeon might have a crush on you, and neither does it take long for you to reciprocate. 

being with juyeon was like sitting on a car and going on a long road trip. 

not many bumps, not many surprises, frankly, you were more than happy he was such an easy man to be with. 

when juyeon graduates, he gets admitted into a performing arts academy in another city, leaving you in school where you still had to wear school uniform and wake up even before the sun rose.

but he makes an effort to come back to visit you, knowing that he was the older one with more freedom. 

this long road trip, however, turns into a rollercoaster without warning, without your realisation.

the institute you enroll yourself into after graduation was located further away from the academy than your old school, but juyeon promises that he’d be with you whenever you could, and you promised the same.

distance becomes the first problem, when you realise how taxing it is to spend two hours travelling across the country to see him, and spend more time sitting on a bus or a train than actually being with him.

it starts to wear you away at the edges, fire burning the corners of ivory sheets with mandarin colored flames and leaving ashes the shade of coal on the floor.

then when juyeon was in his final year and you were halfway through your four year course, it was almost like he vanishes off the face of earth.

it worried you at first, that it felt like he was treating this four year relationship like he mattress he could fall back on anytime he wanted to. 

you didn’t blame him, but it stings in the wounds that draw on your heart after a considerable amount of time. 

was this what a long-distance-relationship encapsulated? how do couples who don’t even stay in the same country get through it?

you miss his scent, his arms around you, the way he smiles at you whenever you say something stupid or when he doesn’t get a joke and you had to explain it to him. 

it feels like he has forgotten you, and it rips you apart that you knew why, that you understand he has his own responsibilities as a student in a prestigious performing arts academy. 

but you can’t help but to think: if i could find time that i wanted to provide him, then why couldn’t he?

there was an expectation, and he didn’t meet it. naturally, it becomes a parasite in your love for juyeon. not only had you not seen him in months, his replies begin to spread out across days. 

he doesn’t reply until more than 24 hours later, and even when he does, they are short. they are dry.

you start to wonder why he was being so irresponsible with a relationship, especially one that he initiated four years ago. your thoughts start to run wild in your head, and you worry if he had just been playing with you the entire time, and now he was probably kissing someone else in some dance studio in another city.

no, juyeon would never.

then the day came that he appears on social media after a long time. the light that filled you was so intense that you smiled just by noticing he’s finally not dead.

yet, you would’ve much preferred death over seeing another girl on his social media. 

he didn’t have the time to respond to you, but he has the time to go out with another girl?

you leave him a text, trying to keep your cool and convince yourself that she was just a friend, and that he’d reply you as soon as possible if he knew you were feeling upset about him spending time with another girl.

hurt converts itself into something physical when he doesn’t reply. 

one day passes, then two. 

and soon, the whole week flies past. 

calls don’t get through, much less messages.

just what was he doing?

you worry and wonder that he no longer loved you and he was merely running from you in hopes you’d leave him alone.

where had you gone wrong? were you a bad partner?

your grades started to take a toll, and memories of juyeon started to clog up in your head as if you weren’t already trying to tear your heart out of your chest.

juyeon no longer loves you. 

he’s just having the time of his life in another city, with another girl, probably kissing her in the dance studio and running his hands all over her.

the mere thought kills you, so being able to actually imagine it in your head peels your skin off your body, leaving you in a wrecked mess on the floor with tissues used to wipe your tears. 

then, sangyeon came along.

the fresh graduate was flustered when he sees a second-year student fallen apart in a tutorial room on his trips back to the university. but he recognises you from a branching out event you attended a month ago.

it lasted two weeks, and sangyeon was your teammate as a senior, so he was more than aware of your life and existence. 

sang yeon stays a safe distance away from you while you try with way too much effort to calm your sobs down. 

it’s not a surprise when it fails though, and you break down even harder with the force of someone beating you up

sangyeon doesn’t hesitate to scoot over to your side and pull you into his arms.

it was tricky, trying to recall what exactly you told him. your eyes were swollen and your face must’ve looked like a plum while your tears stained his shirt. 

having someone’s shoulder to cry on was so comforting. it fills a gaping hole in your chest that shouldn’t be there in the first place. 

sangyeon’s voice runs through your head like honey, honey that soothes the scalding burns juyeon left on your skin. 

you knew it was dangerous, and there was a thin line to cross if you chose to let sangyeon through the doors of your heart. 

most your friends weren’t truly aware of the status of the relationship, thus telling sangyeon everything at one go combusts you even further. 

the urge to have someone’s skin pressed against yours, promising you that you were safe whenever they were around becomes painful to reject. 

you will never forget the look in sangyeon’s eyes when you kiss him mid-sentence. 

sangyeon tastes exactly his voice sounded, sweet and soft. his eyes were wide open the second you ram your lips into his. 

his reluctance slips across your arm, feeling a small amount of force being applies to your elbow when he realises what was happening.

but that pressure softens, and he lets you treat him like juyeon, in attempt to cure your own broken heart.

you will make the biggest mistake you will ever make in your life that night, and that was letting yourself pretend sangyeon was juyeon.

not only were you the one who initiated the kiss in attempt to redeem the lack of affection you were none but craving, you chose to pretend juyeon was the one who spent the night leaving fluttering kisses all over your skin. to whisper words of comfort into your ears and kiss your tears away.

when you wake up and see a pair of eyes that shouldn’t be in such close proximity to yours, it feels like a sword has been driven through your stomach.

then you hear hell knocking on your door, but he sounds like love and missing.

it is a crack, then a rip and a complete separation of your body into two when juyeon realises the door of your dorm room is not locked, and he has that bright smile on his face when he walks into the room, thinking you were asleep.

everything happens under a minute, and sangyeon wasn’t even fully awake by the time juyeon was in the room, seeing you in bed with another man.

the memory of a fight the magnitude of tremendous proportions etches itself in your brain like a parasite. 

juyeon literally hurls sangyeon out the door, the only piece of clothing on him being his underwear. 

there was an effort to stop juyeon, because you knew it for yourself that it was not sangyeon’s fault.

it was yours, and it always will be.

juyeon has the man’s clothes thrown out the door and he slams it shut in his face before you could say anything to sangyeon, locking both himself and you in the room.

have you ever seen the eyes of someone who has absolutely no clue what he did wrong?

they are broken, confused, hurt, angry. juyeon’s were coveted with a layer of tears just seconds away from billowing over his lower lids when he sees that your face was reddening from shame as well. 

there was a heavy silence that could’ve killed you, and you wished it did. 

“are you waiting for me to ask--”

“no.”

“so what’s your explanation?”

you dump yourself on the edge of your bed, fingers pressing into your temples. if you pressed hard enough, maybe you could drill your fingers into your skull and rip out your brain.

“y/n.”

why did your own name sound so threatening when it comes from his lips?

“why did you do it? the fact that we were saving it so we could be each other’s first after marriage but you go ahead and do it with someone else--”

“oh, is that the only thing you care about? sex?”

“no, that’s not what i meant--”

“i thought you’d be pissed off over the fact that i have another guy in the picture regardless of our relationship--”

“which is exactly what i’m asking right now!”

the skin on your forehead gets pulled back when your palms hold back your hair. being interrogated by juyeon in just a bra and home shorts felt so humiliating, so degrading, but you can’t help but to have that pang of hatred for juyeon.

he was the one who incited this. all you did was react in a way disproportionate to your feelings.

“why’d you do it, y/n?”

his voice is shaky, and you were terrified to look up at him because you knew he was already crying. 

it shatters your heart; you were angry.

with him. 

with yourself.

his feet shuffles against the floor and he kneels before you, eyes desperately searching yours for any sign of remorse. his hands wrap around yours but you pull away with resentment, and you can’t help but to feel like he was guilt tripping you into apologising. 

it was my fault, but he incited it. 

“y/n--”

“stop, don’t touch me--”

“tell me what’s wrong, we’ll figure i--”

“tell you ‘what’s wrong’?” it takes alot of courage to shove him off and you lose sight of what was fuelling your emotions. “i’ll tell you what’s wrong, lee juyeon.”

he is shocked and you could almost hear something crack when he hears his name come off your tongue like you were regurgitating poison.

“you disappear off the face of earth for god knows how long and then when you finally show up again, it’s with another girl?”

it takes you awhile to notice you were now standing, and he was leaning back with his palms flat on the floor behind him. 

tears were streaming down the corners of his eyes and you know it was solely from the fact that he’s caught you red-handed but you weren’t showing signs of regret or remorse. 

it eats you that he thinks this is not his fault.

“look me in the eye and tell me confidently that you’ve been a responsible partner.”

gut-wrenching surprise writes itself across his face when the demand leaves your lips like venom. 

your eyes finally give in, hiccups starting to form in the back of your throat when the still silence gives you some kind of hint that this relationship was as good as gone. 

“i wait for you to reply for three days, sometimes more, and all you do is say ‘okay’ or ‘alright’ or ‘nah’-- how am i supposed to be convinced you are invested in this relationship? i haven’t seen you in like, what? four months?! not a proper text, no proper calls, you don’t bother to visit me though you know i can’t because of my work--”

the breathlessness in your chest is a cage with loosened screws and nails, an angry, uncontrollable beast inside waiting to lash out and give juyeon a tight slap across the face.

“ask yourself, lee juyeon,” the sobs become one with the hiccups, and droplets of agonising reality falls off the point of your chin. “who was that girl and why did you not bother to text me back? call me?”

his face falls as if he wasn’t already in a million pieces. the silence feels like a dozen paper cuts on your fingers and your lips cracking in the cold. it sounds like a the car on a roadtrip screeching to a violent stop, and it hurls both of you through the windshield.

your soul is bleeding when you see a muscle in his face twitch, because you now know he is as guilty as you are, even if he didn’t sleep with her. 

heartbreak forms a hand on the crown of your head and pushes you to nod. the tears along your jawline get wiped away with the back of your hand, the mucus running down your philtrum is a mess on your bare chest and your face is not recovered from the excessive crying in the last twelve hours. 

juyeon is quiet, but screaming in pain through his eyes. 

the weight of how broken the both of you were slams down on both your shoulders without warning, and you find enough energy to gulp and clear your throat.

“get out.”

the scene looks like a freeze-frame, and you shake your head at the sight of his unwillingness.

“get out, juyeon.”

it feels like a knife is being dragged across your throat when you say the last words you thought you’d ever say to him.

“we are through.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PART 2